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July, 1897, to December, 1897 

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$$n Jllustrated JffontMij 



Vol. XIV. 


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ADVENTURES OF SAID, THE. A Story for Children. From the German of W. Hauff. 109 
(Illustrations by H. R. Millar.) 


(Illustrations by Paul Hardy.) 

AMPHIBIOUS BOAT, THE. By James Walter Smith 491 

(Illustrations from Photographs and Prints. ) 

BABY-SHOW, AT A. By Framley Steelcroft 378 

(Illustrations from Photographs. ) 

BLIZZARDS. By S. Blair McBeath 228 

(Illustrations from Photographs.) 

BY THE MESS FIRE. By " The Professor " 43 

(Illustrations by W. B. Wollen, R.I.) 


(Illustrations from Photographs.) 

CARPET-BEDDING. By Oliver Thorne 373 

(Illustrations from Photographs.) 

CATCH OF THE SEASON, THE. By Mary Angela Dickens 66 

(Illustrations by Sidney Paget.) 


(Illustrations from Photographs.) 

CHRISTMAS IN THE FOREST. A Story for Children. From the German 789 

(Illustrations by H. R. Millar.) 

CHRYSANTHEMUM, THE. From the French of Fernand Beissieb 319 

(Illustrations by Claude A. Shepperson.) 

CHURCHES, PECULIAR. By Louis Greville 732 

(Illustrations from Photographs.) 

COMPETITIONS, QUEER. By Framley Steelcroft 55 

(Illustrations from Photographs.) 


(Illustrations by Warwick GOBLE.) 


(Illustrations from Photographs.) 


(Illustrations from Facsimiles.) 

CURIOSITIES 117, 237, 357, 477, 597, 795 

(Illustrations from Photographs. ) 


(Illustrations from Photographs.) 

DOG-ORCHESTRA, THE. By John West 728 

(Illustrations from Photographs. ) 

DREYFUS CASE, THE. By J. Holt Schooling 7«4 

(Illustrations from Facsimiles.) 

DROVER'S YARN, THE. By " The Professor " 385 

(Illustrations by Paul Hardy.) 


(Illustrations from Old Prints.) 


Original from 




(Illustrations from Photographs.) 

FOOLHARDY FEATS. By George Dollar. 

I.— The Niagara Fools 

II.— Other Fools 

(Illustrations from Photographs.) 

FOR THE GOOD OF THE COUNTY. By Mary Angela Dickens 
(Illustrations by Claude A. Shepperson.) 






Children. From the German of Clemens Brentano 352 

(Illustrations by H. R. Millar.) 

GLIMPSES OF NATURE (See Nature, Glimpses of). 

G.P.O. MUSEUM, THE. By Framley Steelcroft 216 

(Illustrations from Photographs and Facsimiles.) 


(Illustrations by Forrest Niven.) 

HAND SHADOWS. By Bernard Miller 625 

(Illustrations from Photographs.) 

" HASTE TO THE WEDDING." By Gertrude Kingston 209 

(Illustrations by Florence K. Upton.) 

HEROINES. By Douglas J. Murdock 665 

(Illustrations from Photographs.) 

HER ONLY CHANCE. By G. M. Robins 273 

(Illustrations by Paul Hardy.) 

HIS FIRST LOVE. By A. Blair Lees 123 

(Illustrations by W. B. W t ollen, R.I.) 

HIS WORD OF HONOUR. From the French of Jean du Rebrac 192 

(Illustrations by Alfred Pearse.) 


(Illustrations from Photographs.) 

HUMAN ALPHABET, A. By William G. FitzGrrald 659 

(Illustrations from Photographs by A. J. Johnson.) 

HUNDRED YEARS AGO, A. By Alfred Whitman 7*3 

(Illustrations from Old Prints.) 


LV.— Sir William H. White, K.C.B. By William G. FitzGerald 299 

(Illustrations from Px>tographs. ) 

LVL— Sir Arthur Seymour Sullivan. By Arthur H. Lawrence 649 

(Illustrations from Photographs and Facsimiles.) 

IN BIRCHY COPSE. By Geoffrey Mortimer 448 

(Illustrations by Claude A. Shepperson.) 

IVAN'S GRAVE. By Dorothea Gerard 617 

(Illustrations by W. B. Wollen, R.I.) 



(Illustrations from Photographs.) 

By Oswald North 

De Windt. By William G. FitzGerald 
(Illustrations from Photographs.) 

THE. An Interview with Mr, Harry 

LITTLE SCRAP OF MELODY, A. By Helen Boddington 
(Illustrations by Gordon Brow t ne, R.B.A. ) 


(Illustrations by DOROTHY HARDY.) 

(Illustrations from Photographs.) 

(Illustrations from Photog 



Original from 

... 419 

... 520 

... 745 

... 473 



I.— The Cows that Ants Milk 

II. — A Plant that Melts Ice ... 

III. — A Beast of Prey 

IV. — A Woodland Tragedy 

V. — Marriage Among the Glovers 

VI, — Those Horrid Earwigs ... 
(Illustrations by Fred. Enock.) 





OKLAHOMA BOOMERS, THE. By George Dollar 137 

(Illustrations from Photographs.) 

OLD TRAVELLERS' YARNS. By Framley Steelcroft 344 

(Illustrations from Old Prints. ) 


III. — More Dogs 74 

IV.— Cage Birds 326 

V.— More Cage Birds 574 

(Illustrated by J. A. Shepherd.) 

OPTICAL ILLUSIONS, SOME CURIOUS. t By George Lindsay Johnson, M.A., M.D. ... 394 
(Illustrations from Drawings and Facsimiles. ) 


(Illustrations from Diagrams.) 

PEACHES, THE. From the French of AndrS Theuriet 

(Illustrations by Claude A. SHEPPERSON.) 

PESTS. By Warren Cooper 

(Illustrations from Photographs.) 


(Illustrations by Gordon Browne, R.B.A.) 


Bristol, The Bishop of 416 

Carton, Mr. R. C. 519 

De Windt, Mr. Harry 418 

Drew, Mrs. Harry 297 

Drew, The Rev. Harry 296 

Eames-Story, Madame Emma ... 159 

Eyton, The Rev. Canon 51 

Galton, Mr. Francis 518 

Hayward, Mr. Thomas 54 

Kerr, Mr. Commissioner 415 

McTaggart, Mr. W 160 

Monkswell, Lord 517 

Rae, Miss Henrietta 

Richardson, Mr. T. 

Rothschild, Lord 

St. Albans, The Bishop of 
Siam, The Crown Prince of 
Simmons, Field-Marshal Sir John 
Southwell, The Bishop of 

Stanford, Dr. Villiers 

Vanbrugh, Miss Irene 

Watson, Lord 

White, Sir William H 

Williams, Miss Anna 

(Illustrations by J. Finnemorb, R.B.A.) 

(Illustrations by Alfred Pearse.) 

RAILWAY ADVENTURE, A. From the German of Dr. Max Nordeau 
(Illustrations by Gordon Browne, R.B.A.) 

RED WARDER OF THE REEF, THE. By John Arthur Barry... 
(Illustrations by Paul Hardy.) 

ROMANCE OF FOUR WHEELS, A. By Catherine Adams 
(Illustrations by Paul Hardy.) 


(Illustrations from Facsimiles. ) 

SHY PRINCESS, THE. A Story for Children. By Flora Schmalz 
(Illustrations by H. R. Millar.) 

SIDESHOWS. By William G. FitzGerald 

(Illustrations from Photographs.) 

SILENCED. By L. T. Meade and Robert Eustace 

(Illustrations by Gordon Browne, R.B.A.) 

Digitized by GOOglC 

Original from 






... 98 

... 641 

... 497 

... 689 

... 467 

91, 152 

... 694 



SKIN- WRITING. By Jeremy Broome 

{Illustrations from Photographs.) 

SNOW STATUES. By Thomas E. Curtis 

(Illustrations from Photographs.) 

(Illustrations by F. C. GOULD.) 

(Illustrations by C. J. Staniland, R.I.) 

(Illustrations by ALFRED Pearse.) 


(Illustrations from Photographs.) 

TIMBER-TITANS. By George Dollar 

(Illustrations from Photographs.) 

TORNADOES. By James Walter Smith 

(Illustf ations from Photographs.) 

TOUCH AND GO. By Owen Hali 

(Illustrations -by Alfred Prarse.) 

(Illustrations by Sidney Paget.) 


- 453 
... 609 

103, 177 
... 162 





3, 143, 243, 363, 483, 603 

WANDERING SOLDIER, THE. A Story for Children. From the German 233 

(Illustrations by H. R. MILLAR.) 

WHITE KITTEN, THE. By James Workman 409 

(Illustrations by W. B. Wollen, R.I.) 


(Illustrations by J. L. Wimbush.) 


(Illustrations from Photographs and Facsimiles.) 


Children. From the German 582 

(Illustrations by H. R. Millar.) 

WRECKS. By William G. FitzGerald 550 

(Illustrations from Photrwjraphs. ) 



(""rw^nL'' Original from 



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Original from 

The Strand Magazine. 

Vol. xiv. 

JULY, 1897. 

No. 79. 

The Tragedy of the Korosko. 

By A. Conan Doyle. 

HE camels, some brown and 
some white, were kneeling in 
a long line, their champing jaws 
moving rhythmically from side 
to side, and their gracefully 
poised heads turning to right 
and left in a mincing, self-conscious fashion. 
Most of them were beautiful creatures, true 
Arabian trotters, with the slim limbs and 
finely turned necks which mark the breed ; 
but among them were a few of the slower, 
heavier beasts, with ungroomed skins, dis- 
figured by the black scars of old firings. These 
were loaded with the doora and the waterskins 
of the raiders, but a few minutes sufficed to 
redistribute their loads and to make place for 
the prisoners. None of these had been bound 
with the exception of Mr. Stuart — for the 
Arabs, understanding that he was a clergyman, 
and accustomed to associate religion with 
violence, had looked upon his fierce outburst 
as quite natural, and regarded him now as 
the most dangerous and enterprising of their 
captives. His hands were therefore tied 
together with a plaited camel-halter, but the 
others, including the dragoman and the two 
wounded blacks, were allowed to mount 
without any precaution against their escape, 
save that which was afforded by the slowness 
of their beasts. Then, with a shouting of 
men and a roaring of camels, the creatures 
were jolted on to their legs, and the long, 
straggling procession set off with its back to 
the homely river, and its face to the 
shimmering, violet haze, which hung round 
the huge sweep of beautiful, terrible desert, 
striped tiger-fashion with black rock and with 
golden sand. 

None of the white prisoners with the 
exception of Colonel Cochrane had ever 

Vol xiv.— t Copyright, 1897, by 

been upon a camel before. It seemed an 
alarming distance to the ground when they 
looked down, and the curious swaying 
motion, with the insecurity of the saddle, 
made them sick and frightened. But their 
bodily discomfort was forgotten in the 
turmoil of bitter thoughts within. What a 
chasm gaped between their old life and their 
new ! And yet how short was the time and 
space which divided them ! Less than 
an hour ago they had stood upon the 
summit of that rock and had laughed 
and chattered, or grumbled at the heat 
and flies, becoming peevish at small dis- 
comforts. Headingly had been hypercritical 
over the tints of Nature. They could 
not forget his own tint as he lay with 
his cheek upon the black stone. Sadie had 
chattered about tailor-made dresses. Now 
she was clinging, half-crazy, to the pommel of 
a wooden saddle, with suicide rising as a red 
star of hope in her mind. Humanity, reason, 
argument— all were gone, and there remained 
the brutal humiliation of force. And all the 
time, down there by the second rocky point, 
their steamer was waiting for them — their 
saloon, with the white napery and the glitter- 
ing glasses, the latest novel, and the London 
papers. The least imaginative of them 
could see it so clearly : the white awning, 
Mrs. Shlesinger with her yellow sun-hat, Mrs. 
Belmont lying back in the canvas chair. 
There it lay almost in sight of them, that 
little chip broken off from home, and every 
silent, ungainly step of the camels was carry- 
ing them more hopelessly away from it. That 
very morning how beneficent Providence had 
appeared, how pleasant was life — a little 
commonplace, perhaps, but so soothing and 
restful. A*jc5 now ! f rrirn 


The red head-gear, patched jibbehs. and 


yellow boots had already shown to the 
Colonel that these men were no wandering 
party of robbers, but a troop from the regular 
army of the Khalifa. Now, as they struck 
across the desert, they showed that they 
possessed the rude discipline which their 
work demanded. A mile ahead, and far out 
on either flank, rode their scouts, dipping and 
rising among the yellow sand-hills. Ali Wad 
Ibrahim headed the caravan, and his short, 
sturdy lieutenant brought up the rear. The 
main party straggled over a couple of 
hundred yards, and in the middle was the 
little, dejected clump of prisoners. No 
attempt was made to keep them apart, and 
Mr. Stephens soon contrived that his camel 
should be between those of the two ladies. 

"Don't be down-hearted, Miss Adams," 
said he. " This is a most indefensible out- 
rage, but there can be no question that steps 
will be taken in the proper quarter to set the 
matter right. If it had not been for that 
villain Mansoor, you need not have appeared 
at all." 

It was shocking to see the change in the 
little Bostonian lady, for she had shrunk to 
an old woman in an hour. Her swarthy 
cheeks had fallen in, and her eyes shone 
wildly from sunken, darkened sockets. Her 
frightened glances were continually turned 
upon Sadie. There is surely some wrecker 
angel which can only gather her best treasures 
in moments of disaster. For here were all 
these worldlings going to their doom, and 
already frivolity and selfishness had passed 
away from them and each was thinking and 
grieving only for the other. Sadie thought of 
her aunt, her aunt thought of Sadie, the men 
thought of the women, Belmont thought of 
his wife — and then he thought of something 
else, also, and he kicked his camel's shoulder 
with his heel until he found himself upon the 
near side of Miss Adams. 

"I've got something for you here," he 
whispered. " We may be separated soon, 
so it is as well to make our arrangements." 

" Separated ! " wailed Miss Adams. 

" Don't speak loud, for that infernal 
Mansoor may give us away again. I hope 
it won't be so, but it might. For example, 
they might determine to get rid of us men 
and to keep you." 

Miss Adams shuddered. 

" What am I to do ? For God's sake tell 
me what I am to do, Mr. Belmont ! I am 
an old woman. I have had my day. But 
Sadie — I am clean crazed when I think 
of her." 

" Put your hand out under your dust-cloak," 

Digitized by GOOQ I C 

said Belmont, sidling his camel up against 
her's. " Don't miss your grip of it. There ! 
Now hide it in your dress, and you'll always 
have a key to unlock any door." 

Miss Adams felt what it was which he had 
slipped into her hand, and she looked at him 
for a moment in bewilderment. Then she 
pursed up her lips and shook her stern, brown 
face in disapproval. But she pushed the little 
pistol into its hiding-place, all the same, and 
she rode with her thoughts in a whirl. Could 
this indeed be she, Eliza Adams, of Boston, 
whose narrow, happy life had oscillated 
between the comfortable house in Common- 
wealth Avenue and the Tremont Presbyterian 
Church? Here she was, hunched upon a 
camel, with her hand upon the butt of a 
pistol, and her mind weighing the justifications 
of murder. Oh, life, sly, sleek, treacherous 
life, how are we ever to trust you ? Show us 
your worst and we can face it, but it is when 
you are sweetest and smoothest that we have 
most to fear from you. 

" No, I am not scared, Mr. Stephens," 
said Sadie, turning towards him a blanched 
face which belied her words. " We're all in 
God's hands, and surely He won't be cruel 
to us. It is easy to talk about trusting Him 
when things are going well, but now is the 
real test. If He's up there behind that blue 
Heaven " 

" He is," said a voice behind them, and 
they found that the Birmingham clergyman 
had joined the party. His tied hands 
clutched on to his Makloofa saddle, and 
his fat body swayed dangerously from side to 
side with every stride of the camel. His 
wounded leg was oozing with blood and 
clotted with flies, and the burning desert 
sun beat down upon his bare head, for 
he had lost both hat and umbrella in 
the scuffle. A rising fever flecked his 
large, white cheeks with a touch of colour, 
and brought a light into his brown ox- 
eyes. He had always seemed a somewhat 
gross and vulgar person to his fellow- 
travellers. Now, this bitter healing draught 
of sorrow had transformed him. He was 
purified, spiritualized, exalted. He had 
become so calmly strong that he made the 
others feel stronger as they looked upon him. 
He spoke of life and cf death, of the present, 
and their hopes of the future, and the black 
cloud of their misery began to show a golden 
rift or two. Cecil Brown shrugged his 
shoulders, for he could not change in an 
hour the convictions of his life ; but the 
others, even Fardet, the Frenchman, were 
touched and strengthened. They all took 



m ' 1H>N T MISS VCWft tittit OF IT. 

off their hats when he prayed. Then the 
Colonel made a turban out of his red silk 
cummerbund, and insisted that Mr, Stuart 
should wear it. With his homely dress 
and gorgeous bead-gear, he looked like a 
man who has dressed up to amuse the 

And now the dull, ceaseless, insufferable 
torment of thirst was added to the aching 
weariness which oime from the motion of 
the camels. The sun glared down upon 
them, and then up again from the yellow 
sand, and the great plain shimmered and 
glowed until they felt as if they were riding 
over a cooling sheet of molten metal Their 
lips were parched arxi dried, and their 
tongues like tags of leather They lisped 
curiously in their speech, for it was only the 

:n, lor Jt was only tr 


vowel sounds which would come without an 
effort. Miss Adams's chin had dropped upon 
her chest, and her great hat concealed her 

"Auntie will faint if she does not get 
water," said Sadie. M Oh, Mr, Stephens, is 
there nothing we could do?" 

The Dervishes riding near were all Bnggara 
with the exception of one negro — an uncouth 
fellow with a face pitted with small pox. His 
expression seemed good-natured when com- 
pared with that of his Arab comrades, and 
Stephens ventured to touch his elbow and to 
point to his water-skin, and then to the 
exhausted lady. The negro shook his head 
brusquely, but at the same time he glanced 
significantly towards the Arabs as if to say 
that, if it were not for them, he would act 



differently. Then he laid his black forefinger 
upon the breast of his jibbeh, 

" Tippy Tilly," said he. 

u What's that ?" asked Colonel Cochrane 

is as near as he can get to Egyptian Artillery. 
He has served in the Egyptian Artillery 
under Binibashi Mortimer, He was taken 
prisoner when Hicks Pasha was destroyed, 

' TIPPY TILLY. SA1L> fflfc" 

11 Tippy Tilly," repeated the negro, sinking 
his voice as if he wished only the prisoners 
to hear him, 

The Colonel shook his head. 

** My Arabic won't bear much strain. I 
don't know what he is saying," said he, 

11 Tippy Tilly. Hicks Pasha," the negro 

" I believe the fellow is friendly to us, but 
I can't quite make him out," said Cochrane 
to Belmont " Do you think that he means 
that his name is Tippv Tilly, and that he 
killed Hicks Pasha?" 

The negro showed his great white teeth at 
hearing his own words coming back to him. 
" Aiwa ! " said he. u Tippy Tilly— Bimbashi 
Mormer — Bourn ! " 

u By George, I've got it ! " cried Belmont, 
" He's trying to speak English. Tippy Tilly 

and had to turn Dervish to save his skin. 
How's that?" 

The Colonel said a few words of Arabic 
and received a reply, but two of the Arabs 
closed up, and the negro quickened his pace 
and left them, 

"You are quite right/ said the Colonel 
"The fellow is friendly to us and would 
rather fight for the Khedive than for the 
Khalifa. I don't know that he can do us 
any good, but I've been in worse holes than 
this, and come out right side up. After all, 
we are not out of reach of pursuit, and won't 
be for another forty-eight hours." 

Belmont calculated the matter out in his 
slow, deliberate fashion. 

"It was about twelve that we were on the 
rock," said he. " They would become 
alarmed aboard the steamer if we did not 



appear at two. The reis was a sleepy old 
crock, but I have absolute confidence in the 
promptness and decision of my wife. She 
would insist upon an immediate alarm being 
given. Suppose they started back at two- 
thirty, they should be at Haifa by three. 
How long did they say that it took to turn 
out the camel corps ? " 

" Give them an hour." 

" And another hour to get them across the 
river. They would get to the Abousir Rock 
and pick up the tracks by six o'clock. After 
that it is a clear race. We are only four 
hours ahead, and some of these beasts are 
very spent. We may be saved yet, 
Cochrane ! " 

44 Some of us may. I don't expect to see 
the padre alive to-morrow, nor Miss Adams 
either. See here, Belmont, m case you get 
back and I don't, there's a matter of a mort- 
gage that I want you to set right for me." 
They rode on with their shoulders inclined 
to each other, deep in the details of 

The friendly negro who had talked of 
Tippy Tilly had managed to slip a piece of 
cloth soaked in water into the hand of Mr. 
Stephens, and Miss Adams had moistened 
her lips with it Even the few drops had 
given her renewed strength, and now that the 
first crushing shock was over, her wiry, elastic 
Yankee nature began to reassert itself. 

14 These people don't look as if they would 
harm us, Mr. Stephens," said she. " I guess 
they have a working religion of their own, 
such as it is, and that what's wrong to us is 
wrong to them." 

Stephens shook his head in silence. He 
had seen the death of the donkey-boys, and 
she had not. 

44 Do you know what I am thinking of all 
the time ? " said Sadie. " You remember 
that temple that we saw — when was it ? 
Why, it was this morning." 

They gave an exclamation of surprise, all 
three of them. Yes, it had been this 
morning ; and it seemed away and away in 
some dim past experience of their lives, so 
vast was the change, so new and so over- 
powering the thoughts which had come 
between. They rode in silence, full of this 
strange expansion of time, until at last 
Stephens reminded Sadie that she had left 
her remark unfinished. 

14 Oh, yes ; it was the wall picture on that 
temple that I was thinking of. Do you 
remember the poor string of prisoners who 
are being dragged along to the feet of the 
great king — how dejected they looked among 

the warriors who led them ? Who could — 
who could have thought that within three 
hours the same fate should be our own ? 

And Mr. Headingly ," she turned her face 

away and began to cry. 

44 Don't take on, Sadie," said her aunt ; 
" remember what the minister said just now, 
that we are all right there in the hollow of 
God's hand. Where do you think we are 
going, Mr. Stephens ? " 

The red edge of his Baedeker still pro- 
jected from the lawyer's pocket, for it had not 
been worth their captors' while to take it. 
He glanced down at it 

44 If they will only leave me this, I will 
look up a few references when we halt. I 
have a general idea of the country, for I drew 
a small map of it the other day. The river 
runs from south to north, so we must be 
travelling almost due west I suppose they 
feared pursuit if they kept too near the Nile 
bank. There is a caravan route, I remember, 
which runs parallel to the river, about seventy 
miles inland. There is a line of wells 
through which it passes. It comes out at 
Assiout, if I remember right, upon the 
Egyptian side. On the other side, it 
leads away into the Dervish country — so, 
perhaps " 

His words were interrupted by a high, 
eager voice which broke suddenly into a 
torrent of jostling words, words without 
meaning, pouring strenuously out in angry 
assertions and foolish repetitions. The pink 
had deepened to scarlet upon Mr. Stuart's 
cheeks, his eyes were vacant but brilliant, 
and he gabbled, gabbled, gabbled as he rode. 
Kindly mother Nature ! she will not let her 
children be mishandled too far. "This is 
too much," she says ; 44 this wounded leg, 
these crusted lips, this anxious, weary mind. 
Come away for a time, until your body 
becomes more habitable." And so she 
coaxes the mind away into the Nirvana of 
delirium, while the little cell-workers tinker 
and toil within to get things better for its 
home-coming. When you see the veil of 
cruelty which Nature wears, try and peer 
through it, and you will catch a glimpse of a 
very homely, kindly face behind. 

The Arab guards looked askance at this 
sudden outbreak of the clergyman, for it 
verged upon lunacy, and lunacy is to them a 
fearsome and supernatural thing. One of 
them rode forward and spoke with the Emir. 
When he returned he said something to his 
comrades, one of whom closed in upon each 
side of the minister's camel, so as to prevent 
him from falling. The friendly negro sidled 



his beast up to the Colonel, and whispered 
to him. 

M We are going to halt presently, Belmont/* 
said Cochrane. 

"Thank God! They may give us some 
water. We can't go on like this." 

" I told Tippy Tilly that, if he could help 
us* we would turn him into a Bimbashi when 
we got him back into Egypt I think he's 
willing enough if he only had the power. By 
Jove, Belmont, do look back at the river/' 

Their route, which had lain through sand- 
strewn khors with jagged, black edges— 
places up which one would hardly think it 
possible that a camel could climb — opened 
out now on to a hard, rolling plain, covered 
thickly with rounded pebbles, dipping and 
rising to the violet hills upon the horizon. 
So regular were the long, brown pebble 
strewn curves, that they looked like the dark 
rollers of some monstrous ground-swell. 
Here and there a little straggling, sage- 
green tuft of camel - grass sprouted up 
between the stones. Brown plains and 
violet hills — nothing else in front of them I 
Behind lay the black jagged rocks through 
which they had passed with orange slopes of 
sand, and then far away a thin line of green 
to mark the course of the river. How cool 
and beautiful that green looked in the stark, 
abominable wilderness ! On one side they 
could see the high rock — the accursed rock 

which had tempted them to their ruin. On 
the other the river curved, and the sun 
gleamed upon the water. Oh, that liquid 
gleam, and the insurgent animal cravings, 
the brutal primitive longings, which for 
the instant took the soul out of all of 
them ! They had lost families, countries, 
liberty, everything, but it was only of 
water, water, water, that they could think. 
Mr, Stuart in his delirium began roaring 
for oranges, and it was insufferable for 
them to have to listen to him. Only the 
rough, sturdy Irishman rose superior to that 
bodily craving. That gleam of river must 
be somewhere near Haifa, and bis wife 
might be upon the very water at which he 
looked. He pulled his hat over his eyes, 
and rode in gloomy silence, biting at his 
strong, iron-grey moustache* 

Slowly the sun sank towards the west, and 
their shadows began to trail along the path 
where their hearts would go. It was cooler, 
and a desert breeze had sprung up, whisper- 
ing over the rolling, stone-strewed plain. The 
Emir at their head had called his lieutenant 
to his side, and the pair had peered about, 
their eyes shaded by their hands, looking for 
some landmark. Then, with a satisfied 
grunt, the chiefs camel had seemed to break 
short off at its knees, and then at its hocks, 
going down in three curious, broken-jointed 
jerks until its stomach was stretched upon 




"looking for some landmark,? 

ginal from 


the ground. As each succeeding camel 
reached the spot it lay down also, until they 
were all stretched in one long line. The 
riders sprang off, and laid out the chopped 
tibbin upon cloths in front of them, for no 
well-bred camel will eat from the ground. 
In their gentle eyes, their quiet, leisurely way 
of eating, and their condescending, mincing 
manner, there was something both feminine 
and genteel, as though a party of prim old 
maids had foregathered in the heart of the 
Libyan desert 

There was no interference with the 
prisoners, either male or female, for how 
could they escape in the centre of that huge 
plain ? The Emir came towards them once, 
and stood combing out his blue-black beard 
with his fingers, and looking thoughtfully at 
them out of his dark, sinister eyes. Miss 
Adams saw with a shudder that it was always 
upon Sadie that his gaze was fixed. Then, 
seeing their distress, he gave an order, and a 
negro brought a water-skin, from which he 
gave each of them about half a tumblerful. 
The Emir said a few abrupt words to the 
dragoman and left. 

" Ladies and gentlemen," Mansoor began, 
with something of his old consequential 
manner ; but a glare from the Colonel's eyes 
struck the words from his lips, and he broke 
away into a long, whimpering excuse for his 

" How could I do anything otherwise," he 
wailed, "with the very knife at my throat?" 

" You will have the very rope round your 
throat if we all see Egypt again," growled 
Cochrane, savagely. " In the meantime " 

" That's all right, Colonel," said Belmont 
" But for our own sakes we ought to know 
what the chief has said." 

Cochrane shrugged his shoulders. Priva- 
tions had made him irritable, and he had to 
bite his lip to keep down a bitter answer. 
He walked slowly away, with his straight- 
legged military stride. 

" What did he say, then ? " asked Belmont, 
looking at the dragoman with an eye which 
was as stern as the Colonel's. 

41 He seems to be in a somewhat better 
manner than before. He said that if he had 
more water you should have it, but that he is 
himself short in supply. He said that to- 
morrow v/e shall come to the wells of Selimah, 
and everybody shall have plenty— and the 
camels too." 

" Did he say how long we stopped here ? " 

"Very little rest, he said, and then for- 
wards ! Oh, Mr. Belmont " 

" Hold your tongue ! " snapped the Irish- 

Vol. xiv.— 2. 

man, and began once more to count times 
and distances. If it all worked out as he 
expected, if his wife had insisted upon the 
indolent reis giving an instant alarm at Haifa, 
then the pursuers should be already upon 
their track. The Camel Corps or the 
Egyptian Horse would travel by moonlight 
better and faster than in the daytime. It 
would take at least an hour before they 
would all get started again. That would 
be a clear hour gained. Perhaps by next 

And then, suddenly, his thoughts were 
terribly interrupted. The Colonel, raving 
like a madman, appeared upon the crest of 
the nearest slope, with an Arab hanging on 
to each of his wrists. His face was purple 
with rage and excitement, and he tugged and 
bent and writhed in his furious efforts to 
get free. " You cursed murderers ! " he 
shrieked, and then, seeing the others in front 
of him, "Belmont," he cried, "they've 
killed Cecil Brown." 

What had happened was this. In his 
conflict with his own ill-humour, Cochrane 
had strolled over this nearest crest, and had 
found a group of camels in the hollow 
beyond, with a little knot of angry, loud-voiced 
men beside them. Brown was the centre of 
the group, pale, heavy-eyed, with his up- 
turned, spiky moustache and listless manner. 
They had searched his pockets before, but 
now they were determined to tear off all his 
clothes in the hope of finding something 
which he had secreted. A hideous negro 
with silver bangles in his ears grinned and 
jabbered in the young diplomatist's impassive 
face. There seemed to the Colonel to be 
something heroic and almost inhuman in 
that white calm, and those abstracted eyes. 
His coat was already open, and the negro's 
great black paw flew up to his neck and tore 
his shirt down to the waist And at the 
sound of that r-r-rip, and at the abhorrent 
touch of those coarse fingers, this man 
about town, this finished product of the 
nineteenth century, dropped his life-traditions 
and became a savage facing a savage. His 
face flushed, his lips curled back, he chat- 
tered his teeth like an ape, and his eyes — 
those indolent eyes which had always twinkled 
so placidly -were gorged and frantic. He 
threw himself upon the negro, and struck 
him again and again, feebly but viciously, in 
his broad, black face. He hit like a girl, 
round arm, with an open palm. The man 
winced away for an instant, appalled by this 
sudden blaze of passion. Then with an 
impatient, snarling cr^nben slid a knife from 




his long loose sleeve and struck upwards 
under the whirling arm. Brown sat down 
at the blow and began to cough— to cough 
as a man coughs who has choked at dinner, 
furiously, ceaselessly, spasm after spasm. 
Then the angry red cheeks turned to a 
mottled pallor, there were liquid sounds in 
his throat, and, clapping his hand over his 
mouth, he rolled over on to his side. The 

at last, in bitter silence, beside the delirious 

So Headingly was gone, and Cecil Brown 
was gone, and their haggard eyes were turned 
from one paleface to another, to know which 
they would lose next of that frieze of light- 
hearted riders who had stood out so clearly 
against the blue morning sky when viewed 
from the deck-chairs of the K&rmko* Two 




negro, with a brutal grunt of contempt, slid 
his knife up his sleeve once more, while the 
Colonel, spitting like a wild cat, was sei/xd 
by the bystanders, and dragged, raving with 
fury, back to his forlorn party. His hands 
were lashed with a camel-halter, and he lay 


gone out of ten, and a third out of his mind. 
The pleasure trip was drawing to its climax* 

Fardet, the frenchman, was sitting alone 
with his chin resting upon his hands, and his 
elbows upo.n his knees, staring miserably out 
over the ci#^Sitif>Wlilfi : * , Bfelmont saw him start 




suddenly and pick up his head like a dog 
who hears a strange step. Then, with 
clenched fingers, he bent his face forward 
and stared fixedly towards the black hills 
through which they had passed. He followed 
his gaze, and, yes — yes — there was something 
moving there ! He saw the flash of metal, 
and the sudden gleam of some white garment 
A Dervish vedette upon the flank turned his 
camel twice round as a danger signal, and 
discharged his rifle in the air. The echo of 
the crack had hardly died away before they 
were all in their saddles, Arabs and negroes. 
Another instant, and the camels were on their 
feet and moving slowly towards the point of 
alarm. Several armed men surrounded the 
prisoners, slipping cartridges into their 
Remingtons as a hint to them to remain 

" By Heaven, they are men on camels ! " 
cried Cochrane, his troubles all forgotten as 
he strained his eyes to catch sight of these 

" They've been smarter than I gave them 
credit for," said Belmont. " They are here 
a long two hours before we could have 
reasonably expected them. Hurrah, Monsieur 
Fardet, fa va bien, n } est ce pas J " 

" Hurrah, hurrah, merveilleusement bien ! 
Vivent les Anglais ! Vivent Us Anglais!" 
yelled the excited Frenchman, as the head of 
a column of camelry began to wind out from 
among the rocks. 

" See here, Belmont," cried the Colonel. 
" These fellows will want to shoot us if they 
see it is all up. Will you be ready to jump 
on the fellow with the blind eye, and I'll 
take the big nigger, if I can get my hands 
loose. Stephens, you must do what you can. 
You, Fardet, comprenez voitsl II est necessaire 
to plug these Johnnies before they can hurt 

us. You, dragoman, tell those two Soudanese 
soldiers that they must be ready — but, but " 
.... his words died into a murmur and he 
swallowed once or twice. " These are 
Arabs," said he, and it sounded like another 

Of all the bitter day, it was the very bitterest 
moment. Happy Mr. Stuart lay upon the 
pebbles with his back against the ribs of his 
camel, and chuckled consumedly at some 
joke which those busy little cell-workers had 
come across in their repairs. His fat face 
was wreathed and creased with merriment. 
But the others, how sick, how heart -sick, 
were they all ! The women cried. The 
men turned away in that silence which is 
beyond tears. Monsieur Fardet fell upon 
his face, and shook with dry sobbings. 

The Arabs were firing their rifles as a 
welcome to their friends, and the others as 
they trotted their camels across the open 
returned the salutes and waved their rifles 
and lances in the air. They were a smaller 
band than the first one — not more than thirty 
— but dressed in the same red headgear and 
patched jibbehs. One of them carried a 
small white banner with an inscription. 

u What's that they have in the middle of 
them ? " cried Stephens. " Look, Miss 
Adams ! Surely it is a woman ! " 

There was something there upon a camel, 
but it was difficult to catch a glimpse of it. 
And then suddenly, as the two bodies met, 
the riders opened out, and they saw it 

" It's a white woman ! " 

"The steamer has been taken ! ! ' 

Belmont gave a cry that sounded high 
above everything. 

" Norah, darling," he shouted, " keep your 
heart up ! I'm here, and it is all well ! " 

(To be continued.) 

by Google 

Original from 

Glimpses of Nature. 

By Grant Allen. 

ONT let my title startle you ; 
it was Linnaeus himself who 
first invented it. Everybody 
knows the common little 
" green-flies " or " plant-lice " 
that cluster thick on the 
shoots of roses ; and most people know that 
these troublesome small insects (from the 
human point of view) are the true source of 
that shining sweet juice, rather slimy and 
clammy, that covers so many leaves in warm 
summer weather, and is commonly called 
honey- dew, A good many people 


heard, too, that ants use the tiny 
creatures in place of cows, coaxing 
with their feelers so as to make 
yield up the sweet and nutritious juice 
which is the ants' substitute for butter 
at breakfast. But comparatively few are 
aware how strange and eventful is the 
brief life-history of these insignificant little 
beasts which we destroy by the 
thousand in our flower-gardens 
or conservatories with a sprinkle 
of tobacco- water. To the world 
at large, the aphides, as we call 
them, are mere nameless nuis- 
ances — pests that infest our 
choicest plants ; to the eye of 
the naturalist, they are a mar- 
vellous and deeply interesting 
group of animals, with one of 
the oddest pedigrees, one of the 
queerest biographies, known to 

I propose, therefore, its this 
paper briefly to recount their 
story from the cradle to the 
grave; or, rather, to be literally . 
accurate, from the time when 
they first emerge from the egg to the moment 
when they are eaten alive (with some hundreds 
of their kind) by one or other of their watchful 
enemies. In this task, I shall be aided 
not a little by the clever and vivid dramatic 
sketches of the Aphides at Home, which 
have been prepared for me by my able 
and watchful collaborator, Mr, Frederick 
Enock, an enthusiastic and observant 
naturalist, who thinks nothing of sitting up 
all night, if so he may catch a beetle's egg 
at the moment of hatching \ and who will 

keep his eye to the microscope for twelve 
hours at a stretch, relieved only by occasional 
light refreshment in the shape of a sandwich, 
if so he may intercept some rare chrysalis at 
its moment of bursting, or behold some 
special grub spin the silken cocoon within 
whose ease it is to develop into the perfect 
winged insect, 

Rose-aphides, or "green -flies," as most 
people call them, are, to the casual eye, a 
mere mass of living "blight" — a confused 
group of tiny translucent insects, moored by 
their beaks or sucking-tubes to the shoots of 
the plant on which they have been born, 
and which they seldom quit unless forcibly 
ejected. For they are no Colum buses. The 
spray of rose-bush figured in sketch No* i 
shows a small part of one such numerous 
household, in quiet possession of its family 
tree, and engaged, as is its wont, in sucking 
for dear life at the juices of its own peculiar 


food-plant. You will observe that they are 
clustered closest at the growing-point. Each 
little beast of this complex family is coloured 
protectively green, so as to be as incon- 
spicuous as possible to the keen eyes of its 
numerous enemies ; and each sticks to its 
chosen twig with beak and sucker as long as 
there is anything left to drink in it, only 
moving away on its six sprawling legs when 
its native spot has been drained dry of all 

We often Uljc metaphorically of vegetating 




the aphis vegetates. Indeed, aphides are as 
sluggish in their habits and manners as it is 
possible for a living and locomotive animal 
to be ; they do not actually fasten for life to 
one point, like oysters or barnacles ; but 
they are bom on a soft shoot of some par- 
ticular plant ; they stick their sucking-tube 
into it as soon as they emerge ; they anchor 
themselves on the spot for an indefinite 
period ; and they only move on to a new 
"claim " when sheer want of food or force 
majeure compels them. The winged mem- 
bers are an exception : they are founders of 
new colon ies, and are now on their way to 
some undiscovered Tasmania. 

And, indeed, as we shall see, these stick- 
in-the-mud creatures have yet, in the lump, 
a most eventful history — a history fraught 
with strange loves, with hairbreadth escapes, 
with remorseless foes, with almost incredible 
episodes* They have enemies enough to 
satisfy Mr Rider Haggard 
or the British schoolboy. If 
you look at No, 2, you will 
see the first stage in the 
Seven Ages of a rose-aphis 
family. The cycle of their 
life begins in autumn, with 
the annual laying of the 
winter eggs ; these eggs are 
carefully deposited on the 
leaf- buds of some rose-bush, 
by a perfect wingless female, 
at the first approach of the 
cold weather. I say a per- 
fect wingless female, because, 
as I shall explain hereafter, 
most aphides (and especially 
all the summer crops or 
generations that appear with 
such miraculous rapidity on 
our roses and fruit-trees) are 
poor fatherless creatures ; 
waifs and strays, not born 
in the usual way from a 
male and female parent, but 
budded out vegetatively like 
the shoots of a plant from 
an un wedded mother. 

About this strange retrogressive mode of 
reproduction, however, I shall have more to 
tell you in due time by-and-by ; for the 
present, we will confine ourselves to the 
immediate history of the autumn brood, 
which is regularly produced in the legitimate 
fashion, as the result of an ordinary insect 
marriage between perfectly developed males 
and females. As October approaches, a 
special generation of such perfect males and 

NO. a.— WpEN-OUT MOT HE* — 

females is produced by the unwedded 
summer green-flies - and the females of this 
brood, specially told off for the purpose, lay 
the winter eggs, which are destined to carry 
on the life of the species across the colder 
months, when no fresh shoots for food and 
drink are to be found in the frozen fields or 

The eggs, so to speak, must be regarded 
as a kind of deferred brood, to bridge over 
the chilly time when living aphides cannot 
obtain a livelihood in the open. In No. 2 
we see, above, a rose-twig with its leaf-buds, 
which are undeveloped leaves, inclosed in 
warm coverings, and similarly intended to 
bridge over the winter on behalf of the rose- 
bush* On this tw T ig, then, we have the 
winter eggs of the aphis, mere dots 
represented in their natural size; they are 
providently laid on the bud, which in early 
spring will grow out into a shoot, and thus 
supply food at once for the 
young green-flies as they 
hatch and develop. So 
beautifully does Nature in 
her wisdom take care that 
blight in due season shall 
never be wanting to our 
Marshal Niels and our 
Gloires de Dijon ! 

In the same sketch, too, 
we have, below, a pathetic 
illustration, greatly magni- 
fied, of the poor old worn- 
out moiher. a martyr to 
maternity, laying her last 
egg in the crannies of the 
bud she has chosen. I say 
"a martyr to maternity" in 
solemn earnest You will 
observe that she is a 
shrivelled and haggard speci- 
men of over - burdened 
motherhood. The duties 
of her station have clearly 
been too much for her. 
The reason is that she 
literally uses herself up 
in the production of 
offspring ; which is not surprising, if you 
consider the relative size of egg and egg- 
layer. When this model mother began to 
lay, I can assure you she was fat and well- 
favoured, as attractive a young green-fly as 
you would be likely to come across in a 
day's march on the surface of a rose-twig. 
But once she sets to work, she lays big eggs 
with a will (big, that is to say, compared with 
her own size), till she has used up all her soft 




internal material ; and when she has finished^ 
she dies— or, rather, she ceases to be j for 
there is nothing left of her but a dried and 
shrivelled skin, a mere mummified form or 
withered external skeleton. 

Daring the winter, indeed — in cold climates 
at least— the race of aphides dies out alto- 
gether for the time being, or only protracts 
an artificial existence in the heated air of 
green -houses and drawing-rooms. The species 
is represented at such dormant periods by 
the fertilized eggs alone, which lie snug 
among the folds or scales of the buds till 
March or April comes back again to wake 
them. Then, with the first genial weather, 
the eggs hatch out, and a joyous new brood 
of aphides emerges. And here comes in 
one of the greatest wonders : for these 
summer broods do not consist, like their 
parents in autumn, of males and females, 
but of imperfect mothers — all mothers alike, 
all brotherless sisters, and all budding 
out young as fast as they can go, without 
the trouble and expense of a father. 
They put forth their progeny as a tree 
puts forth leaves, by mere division, The 
new broods thus produced are budded out 
tail first, as shown in No, 3, so that all the 
members of the family stand with their heads 
in the same direction, the mother moving on 
as her offspring increases; and, since each 
new aphis instantly begins to 
fix its proboscis into the soft 
leaf-tissue, and in turn to 
bud out other broods of its 
own, you need not wonder 
that your favourite roses are 
so quickly covered with a 
close layer of blight in 
genial weather. 

To say the truth, the rate 
of increase in aphides is so 
incredibly rapid that one 
dare hardly mention it with- 
out seeming to exaggerate. 
A single industrious little 
green-fly, which devotes it- 
self with a quiet mind to 
eating and reproduction, 
may easily within its own 
lifetime become the ancestor 
of some billions of great- 
grandchildren. It is not 
difficult to see why this 
should be so. The original 
parent buds out little ones 
from its own substance at 
a prodigious rate ; and each 
of these juniors, reaching 

Digitized by\jOOxIG 


maturity at a bound, begins at once to 
bud out others in turn, so that as long 
as food and fine weather remain the 
population increases in an almost un- 
thinkable ratio. Of course, it is the 
extreme abundance of food and the ease of 
living that result in this extraordinary rate of 
fertility ; the race has no Malthus to keep it 
in check— each aphis need only plunge its 
beak into the rose-shoots or leaves and suck ; 
it can get enough food without the slightest 
trouble to maintain itself and a numerous 
progeny. It does not move about recklessly, 
or use up material in any excessive intellectual 
effort ; all it eats goes at once to the pro- 
duction of more and more aphides in rapid 
succession* The plant in reality does all the 
work for it : the aphis just sits with its sucker 
plunged in a reservoir of sap, and lazily 
absorbs the manufactured food-stuffs. 

Many things, however, conspire to show 
that aphides did not always lead so slothful 
a life : they are creatures with a past^ the 
unworthy defendants of higher insects, 
which have degenerated to this level through 
the excessive abundance of their food, and 
through their adoption of what is practically 
a parasitic habit. When life is too easy, men 
and insects invariably degenerate : struggle is 
good for us. One of these little indications 
of a higher past Mr. Enock has given us in 
the upper part of sketch 
No. 3. For the members 
of the spring brood, hatched 
out of the winter eggs, and 
produced in the ordinary 
way of insect life by a 
father and mother, go 
through the regular stages 
of grub and chrysalis, like 
any other flies; or, if you 
wish to be accurately 
scientific, pass through the 
usual forms of larva and 
pupa, before they reach the 
full adult condition. This, 
of course, shows them to 
be the descendants of 
higher insects which under- 
went the common meta- 
morphosis of their kind. 
But the budded-otit, father- 
less broods which follow 
them in summer are pro- 
duced ready made, so to 
speak, without the neces- 
sity for passing through 
larval or infantile stages. 
riiJJWSI ftEfrrPever pubs ; they 



are Dorn fully formed* and proceed forth- 
with to moor themselves, to feed, and to 
bud out fresh generations, without sensible 
interval. In No. 3 we have various stages 
in the development of the spring brood. 
Above we see the pupa, or chrysalis, pro- 
duced from a grub (not very grub like 
in shape X which has sprung from an 
egg ; and on the right, below, we see the 
shrivelled larval skin from which it has just 
freed itself. This particular aphis was thus 
born as a six-legged grub or larva from an 
autumn egg ; it passes through the inter- 
mediate form of a pupa, or chrysalis ; and 
it will finally develop into a winged 
"viviparous" female, such as you see in 
No. 4 below, putting out its young alive 


as fast as ever its wee body can bud 
them. You may observe, however, that 
in the case of aphides there is no great 
difference of form between the three suc- 
cessive stages. 

In No. 4, again, we have a portrait from 
life of such a winged female, the mother of a 
numerous fatherless progeny; for both winged 
and wingless forms are produced through the 
summer* She is round and well-fed, as 
becomes a matron. Observe in particular 
the curious pair of tubes on the last few rings 
of her back ; these are the organs for secret- 
ing nectar or honey-dew, a point about which 
[ shall have a good deal more to say 
presently. A winded female like this may 
fly away to another rose-bush to become the 
foundress of a distant colony. The same illus- 
tration also shows, in a greatly enlarged form, 
her beak or sucking apparatus, which consists 
of four sharp lancet-like siphons, inclosed in a 
protective sheath or proboscis, and admirably 
adapted both for piercing the rose-twig and 
for draining the juices of your choicest 
crimson ramblers. The aphis sticks in the 

point as if it were a needle, and then sucks 
away vigorously at the rose-tree's life-blood. 
You can watch her so any day with a 
common small magnifier, and see how, like 
the kdy at Mr, Stiggms' tea meeting, 
she " swells wisibly " in the process. 
Indeed, aphides are always beautiful objects 
for the microscope or pocket lens, with their 
pale, transparent green bodies, their bright 
black eyes, their jointed hairy legs, their 
delicate feelers, and their marvellous honey- 
tubes ; and it will not be my fault if you still 
continue to regard them as nothing more 
than the " nasty blight " that destroys your 

Do not for a moment suppose, however, 
that you and your gardener, with his spray 
and his tobacco - water, are the 
only enemies the rose-aphis pos- 
7~\ sesses. The name of her foes is 
legion. She is devoured alive, 
from without and from within, 
by a ceaseless horde of aggressive 
belligerents. The most destruc- 
tive of these enemies are no 
doubt the lady-birds, which, both 
in their larval and their winged 
forms, live almost entirely on 
various kinds of green-fly. This 
practical fact in natural history is 
well known to hop-growers, for 
the dreaded " fly " on hops is an 
aphis ; its abundance or otherwise 
governs the hop market, and 
farmers are keenly aware that a 
particular lady-bird eats the " fly " 
by millions, on which account they protect 
and foster the lady-bird, thus leaving the 
two insects, the parasite and the carnivore, 
to fight it out in their own way between 

But No. 5 introduces us to a still more 
insidious though less dangerous foe: an 
internal parasite which lays its eggs inside the 
body of the bud -producing female. There 
the grub hatches out, and proceeds to eat up 
its unwilling hostess, alive, from within. In 
the sketch, we have an illustration, below, of 
an aphis which has thus been compelled to 
take in a stranger to board and lodge in her 
stomach; while the top figure shows you how 
the lodger, after eating his hostess out, eats 
himself out into the open air through her 
empty skin. If you look out closely for such 
haunted green-flies, inhabited by a parasite 
— most often an inchneumon fly— you will 
find them in abundance on the twigs of rose- 
bushes, They have a peculiar swollen, 
quiescent lodfcj'ifittdd. ffBDiwmish colour. 





No. 6 shows us another such fierce enemy 
at work. This formidable insect tiger is the 
larva of the wasp- fly ; he is a savage carnivore, 
who moors himself by his tail end, stretches 
out to his full length, and 
swoops down upon his un- 
suspecting prey from above ; 
and, being blessed with a 
good appetite, he can get rid 
of no fewer than 120 aphides 
in an hour* As he probably 
eats all day, with little inter- 
mission for rest and diges- 
tion, this gives a grand total 
of about 15,000 or 16,000 
victims at a sitting. How- 
ever, the remaining aphides 
go on budding away as fast 
as ever to make lip the de- 
ficiency, so the loss to the 
race is by no means irrepar- 
able. "// tfy a flas eFhomrw 
necessaire" Napoleon used to 
say : and the principle is 
even more true as applied 
to green -flies. If a few- 
millions die, their place is 
soon filled again. 

Look once more at No, 6, 
and you will see that while 
the tiger-like enemy is en- 
gaged in hoisting and devour- 
ing one unfortunate aphis, its neighbour 
below, heedless of the tragedy, is quietly 
engaged in blowing off honey-dew. 

This blu wing-off of honey-dew leads me 
on direct to the very heart 
of my subject ; for it is 
as manufacturers of honey- 
dew and as cows to the 
ants that aphides base 
their chief claim to atten* 
tion. If they did not 
produce this Turkish 
delight of the insect world, 
nobody would have trou- 
bled to study them so 
closely. Let us go on to 
see, then, what is the 
origin and meaning of 
this curious and almost 
unique secretion. 

If you examine the 
leaves of a lime-tree or 
a rose-bush in warm 
summer weather, you will 
find them covered all 
over with a soft, sticky 
substance, sweet to the 

;zed by V_*GOg 


150 VV.Tt HOUR. 

taste, and spread in a thin layer upon 
the surface of the foliage. This sweet stuff 
is honey-dew, and it is manufactured solely 
by various kinds of aphides, without whose 
trade - mark none other is 
genuine- Why do they make 
it? Not, you may be sure, 
out of pure unselfish moral 
desire to benefit the ants 
and other beasts that like 
it. In the animal world, 
nothing for nothing is the 
principle of conduct The 
true secret of the origin of 
honey - dew appears to be 
this. Aphides live entirely 
off a light diet of vegetable 
juices ; now, these juices are 
rich in compounds of 
hydrogen and carbon, 
especially sugar (or, rather, 
to be strictly scientific, 
glucose), but are relatively 
deficient in nitrogenous 
materials, which last are 
needed as producers of move- 
ment by all animals, how- 
ever sluggish- In order, 
therefore, to procure enough 
nitrogenous matter for its 
simple needs, your aphis is 
obliged to eat its way 
through a quite superfluous amount of sweets, 
or of sugar-f or mi 11 g substances, Itisalmostas 
though we ourselves had to swallow daily a 
barrel of treacle, so as to reach at the bottom 
an ounce of beefsteak. 
To get rid of this surplus 
of sugar (or, rather, un- 
digested glucose), almost 
all aphides (for they are 
a large family, with many 
separate kinds) have ac- 
quired a pair of peculiar 
organs, known as honey- 
tubes, on the backs of 
their bodies. Sometimes, 
when distended with 
superfluous food, they 
simply blow out the 
honey - dew secreted by 
these tubes on to the 
leaves below them. 

The aphis in No. 6 
is represented at the 
moment when it is thus 
ridding itself of its ex- 
cessive sweetness. But 
S igina|hfoOffl-dew is sticky, and 




apt to get in the way ; it may clog 
one's legs, or interfere with ones pro- 
boscis : so the aphides prefer as a 
rule to retain it prudently till some friendly 
animal, with a taste for sweets, steps in to 
relieve them of the unpleasant tension. 
The animal which especially performs 
this kind office for the rose-aphis is the 
garden ant; and No. 7 represents such an 
ant in the very act of tapping and caressing 


an aphis with its feelers, in order to make 
her yield up on demand her store of honey. 
The process is ordinarily described as 

You must understand, of course, that 
neither aphis nor ant is actuated by purely 
philanthropic considerations; this is a case 
of mutual accommodation. The aphis wants 
to get rid of a troublesome waste product 
which is apt to clog it. The ant 
wants to secure that waste product as a 
valuable food-stuff. Hence, from all time, 
an offensive and defensive alliance of the 
profoundest type has been mutually struck up 
between ants and aphides. How far this 
alliance has gone is truly wonderful The ants 
not merely "milk" the aphides, but actually 
collect them together in herds and keep them 
in parks as domestic animals. Nay, more ; 
as Sir John Lubbock has pointed out, different 
kinds of ants domesticate different breeds of 
aphides, as each is suited to the other's 
conditions. The common black garden ant 
attends chiefly to the aphides which frequent 
twigs and leaves, such as this very rose-aphis 
— for the black ant is a rover and a good 
tree-climber ; he is much given to exploring 
expeditions over the surface of plants in 
search of honey, and he is not particular 
whether he happens to gather it from flowers 
or from insects. The brown ant, on the 
other hand, goes in rather for such species 
of aphides as frequent the crannies in the 

bark of trees ; while the little yellow ant, an 
almost subterranean race, living underground 
among the grass roots in meadows, "keeps 
flocks and herds" (says Lubbock) "of the 
root-feeding aphides," All these facts you 
can verify for yourself with very little trouble 
in any English village. 

It is most interesting to watch a black ant 
on the prowl after honey - dew. He is 
evidently led on to the herd by smell, for he 
mounts the stem where the 
aphides live in a business- 
like way, and goes straight 
to the point, as if he knew 
what he w T as after. When 
he finds an aphis that looks 
likely, he strokes and caresses 
her gently with his antennae 
(as you see in the sketch), 
coaxing her to yield up the 
coveted nectar The aphis, 
on her side, glad to receive 
his polite attentions, and ac- 
customed to the signal, 
exudes a clear drop of her 
surplus sweet, which the ant 
licks up with its jaws greedily. But ants 
do much more than this in the way of 
aiding and protecting their "cows." They 
really appropriate them. Often , they build, 
with mud, covered ways or galleries up 
to their particular herds, and erect earthen 
cowsheds above them ; they also fight in 
defence of their flocks, as a Zulu will fight 
for his oxen, or an Arab for his camels. 
Their foresight is almost human : for when 
the winter eggs aje laid, the ants will trans- 
port them into their nest, to keep them safe 
against frost ; and when summer comes 
again, they will carry them out with care, 
and place them in the sun to hatch on the 
proper food-plant Could man himself show 
greater prudence and forethought than these 
mites of herdsmen ? 

M The eggs," says Sir John Lubbock, " are 
laid early in October on the food-plant of the 
insect. They are of no direct use to the 
ants ; yet they are not left where they are 
laid, exposed to the severity of the weather 
and to innumerable dangers, but brought 
into the nests, and tended with the utmost 
care through the long winter months till the 
following March " ; when they are brought 
out again and placed on their special food- 

Lubbock even notes that ants have 
domesticated a far larger variety of other 
animals than we ourselves have. Our list 
includes at beat the horse, the dog, the cat, 



the cow, the camel, the sheep, the llama, the 
alpaca, the goat, the hen, the duck, the 
goose, the bee, the silkworm, and a dozen or 
so others ; while ants have domesticated no 
fewer than 584 different kinds of crustaceans 
and insects, including beetles, flies, and 
mites, some of which have lived for so many 
generations in the dark galleries of the ant- 
hills that they have become totally blind, as 
happens almost always, in the long run, with 
underground animals. 

During the live-long summer the aphides 
go on, eating and drinking, though not 
indeed marrying or giving in marriage, but 
budding out new broods with inexhaustible 
fertility. They settle down calmly on the 
spot where they were born, they stick to it 
for life, and they seldom move away from 
their native twig unless somebody pushes 
them, for though th£y have legs, they do not 
care to use them except on extreme provoca- 
tion. But when autumn arrives, M a strange 
thing happens," Broods of perfect winged 
males and wingless females are then pro- 
duced ; and the males of these, like almost 
all other insects, take a marriage flight, find 
their predestined mates^ and become with 
them the parents of the dormant eggs which 
outlive the year, and carry on the race 
to the succeeding summer. While warm 
weather lasts, few or no males are budded 
out; it is only when cold threatens to destroy 
the entire colony that little husbands are 
born, so as to give rise to eggs which may 
bridge over the gulf between summer and 
summer. If you keep the insects warm, 
however, and supply them with abundant 
food (as in a conservatory), they will go on 
producing imperfect females and fatherless 
broods, without intermission, for many years 
together. The egg- laying generation is thus 
shown to be merely a device for meeting the 
adverse chances of winter; 
the budding process suffices 
well enough, as long as 
warmth and food render the 
possibility of freezing or starva- 
tion unimportant. 

On the other hand, the 
eggs and the brood born 
from them revert to the 
earlier habit of the race, 
when it was still an active, 
free-flying type, before it had 
been demoralized by acquir- 
ing its sedentary, parasitic 
habits, They hatch out into 
active little six - footed, or 
six-legged, grubs, which again 

give rise to very similar chrysalis forms, 
and Anally develop into the u viviparous" or 
budding females. From this we can readily 
infer that only too great ease of living 
brought about the existing degeneracy of the 
race. Indeed, whenever a species earns its 
livelihood with too little exertion, it invari- 
ably degenerates, and often grows small, 
unintelligent, and vastly prolific ; for superior 
races have relatively small families, while 
inferior races reproduce by the million. 
The mites which infest cheese and other 
food stuffs are an exactly analogous case to 
that of the aphides, for they are degenerate 
spiders, grown small and prolific through the 
excessive ease of life afforded them by always 
settling in a cheese, all ready-made food for 
them, without the trouble or exertion of 

Creatures which reproduce at such a rate, 
however, invariably pay the penalty for their 
rapid increase by an equally rapid and 
enormous death-rate ; were it otherwise, the 
offspring of a single pair of codfish (with 
their million eggs) would soon turn the sea 
into one solid mass of cod ; while the 
descendants of a single viviparous aphis would 
cover the earth with a 10ft. thick layer of 
teeming green-flies. However, Nature has 
remedies in store for them. Storms of rain 
and hail kill myriads of aphides ; sudden 
changes of weather wilt them and nip them 
up ; innumerable enemies make an honest 
livelihood out of them. Another of these 
ubiquitous foes is graphically represented in 
No, S — the grub of the lace-wing fly, a sort 
of insect old-clothes man, which covers its 
back with the cast-off skins of its discarded 
victims. This is a clever device to enable 
it to escape observation. The larva, which 
is a fat and juicy morsel, catches aphides 
wholesale, and sucks their life-blood ; when 


NO. 8.— COMtC 

Original from 



he has drained them dry, he hoists up their 
skins on to his back with his jaws, by way 
of overcoat. Then the hooks or spines on 
his back (shown above) hold them in place 
for a time, while the larva bends over and 
spins a few threads of web across them, to 
weave them into a neat and compact garment 
Thus securely clad, he is hidden from view : 
he looks much like a twig covered with 
aphides, and avoids to some extent the too 
pressing attentions of his own enemies. 
Observe in this sketch the characteristic 
unconcern of the aphis who is destined to be 
his next victim. 

Birds also destroy large numbers of 
aphides. You can see them picking them off 
in the bean-fields in summer. 

It is lucky for us that these insect pests 
have so abundant a supply of natural 
enemies ; for man, by himself, is almost 
powerless against them. Strange to say, and 
paradoxical as it sounds, it is the smallest 
enemies that we always find most difficult to 
extirpate. Lions and tigers we can kill off 
without difficulty ; they can be shot and 
exterminated. Wolves and hyenas give us a 
little more trouble ; while against rabbits, our 
resources are taxed to the utmost. A plague 
of rats and mice, or of tiny field-voles, 
can hardly be combated with any hope 
of success ; while locusts and Colorado 
beetles devastate our crops with practical 

When it comes to aphides, we are quite 
unable to cope with the infinite numbers of 
our infinitesimal foes ; and if we take the 
microscopic creatures which cause cholera, 
typhoid fever, and other zymotic diseases, 
we may keep out of their way, it is true, or 
may isolate the objects in which they breed 
and store their germs, but we are practically 
without means to kill or hurt them. The 
larger the foe, the more easily is he met ; the 
smaller our enemy, the more difficult is he 
to extirpate. We killed off the American 
buffalo (or bison) in a single generation ; a 
thousand years would probably -fail to kill off 
the insignificant little aphides that infest our 

In the case of one member of the family at 
least, the experiment has been tried on a 
gigantic scale in France, and as yet with com- 
paratively small results. For the dreaded 
phylloxera which attacks the vines is, in fact. 

an aphis ; and though immense rewards have 
been offered by the French Assembly for any 
good remedy against phylloxera, the only 
successful plan as yet proposed has been 
that of planting healthier and sturdier 
American vines, which resist the little beast 
a good deal better than the effete and worn- 
out European species. But many other 
members of the family wage war with dis- 
tinguished success against the British farmer. 
The little black " colliers " which attack our 
bean crops are a species of aphis ; so are the 
" blight " of apple-trees, the " fly " on turnips, 
and the most familiar parasites of the hop, 
the cabbage, the pear, and the potato. It is 
well for us, therefore, that the aphides have 
roused against them so many natural enemies 
among the birds and insects, or our crops 
would be destroyed by their persistent efforts. 
The ichneumon-flies alone kill their millions 
yearly ; and the lady-birds well deserve their 
popular esteem for the good they do in keep- 
ing down the ever- increasing numbers of 
these voracious insects. 

Yet, mischievous as they are, the tiny green 
aphides are well deserving of study both for 
their personal beauty and their singular life- 
history. Everybody can observe them, 
because they are practically everywhere. It 
you have a garden, they swarm on every 
bush. If you grow flowers in your window, 
they live in every pot. If you content 
yourself with an occasional bunch of roses 
or geraniums, you will find them, if you 
look, sucking away contentedly on the leaves 
of the rosebuds. Even in London parks 
or squares you may watch the industrious 
ants creeping slowly up the stems to 
milk their wee green cows ; you may see 
with the naked eye, or still better with a 
pocket lens, the grateful aphis exude a tiny 
drop of limpid honey from its translucent 
tubes, and the ant lick it up with unmistak- 
able gusto. So here, under our eyes, in every 
part of England, we may behold this quaint 
little drama in real life taking place, so 
familiar that it hardly attracts our attention, 
yet so marvellous that we scarce can credit it 
when we first behold it Go out into the 
parks or gardens and examine it for yourself; 
for every one of the facts I have mentioned 
in this paper can be verified with ease (if 
only you have patience) in fields or meadows 
in all parts of Europe. 

by Google 

Original from 

How a Racing Boat is Built, 

Bv S. J. Housley. 

[From Photographs spt€iaUy taken hy George Newnes, Ltd.] 

N the early stages of practice a 
crew uses what k known as a 
"tub-ship/' as distinct from 
the racing eight, or "light-ship/* 
known to Americans as a 
"shell" Though in their actual 
proportions there may be but little difference 
between the two vessels, the difference in 
structure is very great The tub-ship is built 
in " st rakes,' 3 planks overlapping each other 
and nailed together by their edges— the 
most familiar form of construction in rowing- 
boats. Such craft are technically described 
as "clinker-built/' or, more shortly, "clinkers"; 
whereas the light-ship presents an abso- 
lutely smooth surface, unbroken even by a 
keeh Either vessel will be from 58 to 60 or 
more feet in length, and from 2ft, 2in. to 
aft, sin. in extreme width, according to the 
weight of the crew. 

The u stocks " upon which the boat is to 
be constructed run almost the entire length 
of the workshop, and consist of a plank set 
on its edge, sustained at a convenient level 
above the floor, about 2ft., by a series of 
props and shores. In the early stages of her 
buildings a keel-less boat, of whatever size, is 
laid bottom up. The first operation is 
to lay down the 
u frame." This is 
only a temporary 
construction, and 
does not ulti- 
mately form any 
part of the boat. 
It is an outline in 
wood of the "deck- 
plan^" and is care- 
fully arranged on 
the top of the 
stocks, being sup- 
ported in its proper 
position by struts 
fastened to the 
stocks. On this 
frame the "moulds" 
are screwed at 
proper intervals, 
These also are 
temporary, and do 
for an eight what 

the ribs do for a big ship in building — 
they give her shape. For the ribs of a 
racing eight are of such slight material that 
their place has to be taken for a time by 
the moulds, which are cut from stout deal, 
and removed ultimately as the ribs are 
inserted. This method is employed in the 
case of any rowing-boat, whether clinker or 

When the moulds are all in position, a 
very fair idea may be formed of the lines of 
the future boat, as a glance at the accom- 
panying illustration will show. Each mould 
has a slot cut in the part which corresponds 
to the bottom of the boat. The slots are 
sufficiently deep to admit the M keelson," the 
backbone of the craft, Every boat has a 
keelson of some form or other, which is the 
interior portion of her backbone, the keel, 
when there is one, being the outside portion. 
When the keelson is set in the slots it is 
planed down flush with the moulds. At 
either end are fixed the stem and stern posts, 
made of spruce or white cedar, properly 
grooved so that the " skin ,J of the eight may 
be let in flush with the surface of the post. 
In the illustration (No. 1) the stern-post is 
in the foreground, and the oblique join 








where it is fixed to the end of the keelson 
can be clearly seen, as well as the groove for 
the skin. 

Planking, or putting on the skin, is the 
next process. When planks of sufficient 
size can be procured, an eight is built in six 
pieces, three to each side* If, as is the case 
with most boats built for a University crew, 
she is 60 ft. in lengthj each piece must be 
quite 20ft, and the sections which belong to 
the middle part of the boat must be of con- 
siderable width. Such planks, without a 
shake or flaw, are not readily obtained. 

One wood has proved pre-eminently suited 
for this purpose. Cedar is easily worked, 
easily bent, and 
very light The 
finest cedar 
comes from 
Havana, and is 
a very different 
wood to the pro- 
duct of Florida, 
which is used in 
the manufacture 
of pencils. Some 
good cedar is 
also imported 
from Mexico. In- 
deed, the builder 
of racing craft 
may be said to 
ransack the 
world in search 
of materials. The 
cedar planks are 
sawn, by veneer 
saws usually, to 
about i%th of an 
inch in thick- 
ness. They are 
cut to the ap- 
proximate shape, 
and then bent 
to the form of 
the moulds. This 
is accomplished 
by holding them 
over an iron tube 
of large diame- 
ter, inside which 

burns a series of gas jets, and at the 
same time damping the wood. When a 
plank is sufficiently pliable it is laid on 
the moulds, and bound with string, The 
work of fastening each piece must now be 
done very rapidly ; for, as the wood cools 
and dries, it is apt to get out of ^hape in an 
extraordinarily short space of time. The 


"scarves," or joints where the pieces overlap, 
are made by what is known to joiners as 
" halving " ; half the thickness of wood is 
removed from each side, and these halves 
are glued and nailed together, so that the 
surface remains perfectly smooth and un- 
broken. On the inside, the scarf is frequently 
strengthened with an additional layer of 

If anyone wishes to see the perfection of 
neatness and accuracy in making long "joins, 35 
let him examine the bottom of a racing eight, 
and not forget the adverse circumstances 
under which such exquisite work had to be 
produced. In illustration No. 2 ah eight is 

represented par- 
tially planked. 
One-third of her 
length, the stern, 
remains to be 
covered, and one 
side of this is 
in progress, 
When that is 
done the "shell" 
of the boat will 
be complete. 

This stage hav- 
ing been reached^ 
the moulds and 
frame are un- 
screwed from the 
stocks, and the 
boat is turned 
over. The frame 
is removed, and 
the " shell " 
held firmly in 
position by a 
sort of external 
frame, which is 
wedged against 
either side of 
the boat by the 
series of clips 
and props shown 
in illustration 
No. 3, where Mr. 
Clasper, the 
builder, appears 
directing opera- 
tions. Then her ribs are put in, having 
been cut from ash or oak to the proper 
pattern, and meet the keelson, but are 
not let into it In order to keep the 
"floor" or boltom of the eight as flat and 
rigid as possible, the ribs are joined in pairs 
and fastened. to the keelson by "floor 
timbers." These are also of oak or ash, 






of the same thickness as the ribs, not quite 
half an inch square in section* They pass 
right through the keelson, and are riveted on 
either side to the ribs. The skeleton of the 
boat is then completed by the insertion of 
the u in wales/ 1 which may be likened to an 
internal and permanent " frame." They do 
for the sides of the craft what the keelson 
does for the bottom — they supply the 
necessary rigidity. 

In illustration No. 3 may he seen the slots 
at either side of the moulds from which the 
temporary frame 
has been taken. 
The in wales occu- 
pying this position 
may be seen in 
illustration No. 4. 
Gradually, as the 
structure grows in 
st re ngt h, the 
moulds are re- 
moved, and by the 
time the stage 
represented in this 
picture has been 
reached are en- 
tirely absent The 
hull is now finish- 
ed. It remains to 
fit the ship to re- 
ceive and bear the 
strain which will 
be put upon her 
when the eight 

athletes on board 
begin to M make 
her hum," Their 
power is applied 
at the end of the 
outriggers ; these 
are supported by 
the "wash-boards/' 
and the wash- 
boards by the 
These last are like 
strong ribs with a 
big top projecting 
above the in wale, 
and are a con- 
spicuous feature in 
illustration No, 4. 
The extra tall 
ones, which are in 
pairs , are those to 
which the outrig- 
gers are fastened 
through the wash- 
boards, and are rather heavier than the 
others. One wash - board is just being 
fitted to the shoulders. It is of fairly stout 
cedar, or mahogany, and extends only along 
so much of the boat's length as is occupied 
by the rowers. By the coxswain's seat it 
ends in a slope dow r n to the inwale ; forward, 
it commences in the " cutwater/' which is 
seen in illustration No. 5. 

At either end the boat is covered in with 
a fine canvas of Irish linen. For further 
protection it is sometimes found necessary 


[ bV V_T 


THK INWAUlS, AND WAsJi - H U,l£\-- !• '' ' H, Ll-.l) UV I 

lili iHOLU^KS. 




to add " sea-boards " to the wash-boards. 
These are strips of wood, a couple of inches 
or so in width, nailed horizontally to the top 
of the wash-boards and projecting outside. 
They are merely a temporary contrivance 
to prevent the ship from being swamped in a 
heavy sea, and 
are not an essen 
rial part of 

In 1873 ap- 
peared the last 
great innovation 
fa racing craft, 
the introduction 
of the sliding- 
seat. In rowing, 
the power of the 
stroke is mainly 
determined by 
the distance 
through which — 
within reason- 
able limits — the 
shoulders can be 
made to travel 
by the swing of 
the body. A 
sliding - seat en- 
ables the rower* 
while maintain- 
ing the swing 
which he prac- 
tised upon a fixed 
seat, to shift his 
whol e body 
i6in,j and so to 
increase by that 
amount the dis- 
tance travelled 
by his shoulders. 
It is said that 
introduction of 
a seat built of extra 
slid To htm, 

the friction from his own person to a piece 
of unfeeling mechanism must have been 
painfully obvious. So the sliding-seat carne 
into existence. Its primitive form was some- 
thing like the lid of a cigar box, raised upon 
four little square blocks, which slid along two 
greased metal rails. 

In those days, every sliding oarsman bore 
upon his H shorts " the marks of his pursuit, 
in two black lines down the back of each 
thigh, made by the grease from the rails. 
The modern scat is an anatomically con- 
structed cup, running upon four neat little 
vulcanite rollers, which fit upon rails of metal 


one oarsman, before the 
the new contrivance, had 
width, upon which he 

the advantages of 


or vulcanite ; while, in the latest pattern, the 
bearings of the wheel-axles, instead of being 
round holes in brass, are long slots; if the 
wheels by any chance became jammed, the 
seat would still slide comparatively freely on 
the bearings. The seats, with their axles 

and wheels, may 
be seen in illus- 
tration No, 5. 
This picture also 
gives a good view 
of the linen cov- 
ering and out- 

In a sea- boat, 
the 11 stretcher "is 
a long and stout 
stick fitting into 
slots on the 
floor ; unless, as 
is often the case, 
the rower prefers 
to put his foot 
against the back 
of the opposite 
seat. In a river- 
boat it is a wide 
and thick plank, 
from which the 
leg drive is ob- 
tained, It should 
the whole fooL 
Two straps pass 
over the toes — 
more to give 
confidence at the 
finish of the 
stroke than for 
any other pur- 
pose ; certainly 
not to pull the slide up, as that will come for- 
ward of its own accord when a proficient 
sits upon it. The heels rest upon 
the floor-timbers 
on the rower's side of the keelson, or upon two 
semi-circular brass rails screwed to the lower 
part of the stretcher. 

Eights have been arranged so that the crew 
might sit in a row down the centre of the 
craft, but the usual disposition may be seen 
by a glance at illustrations Nos. 5 and 6. 
"Seven n takes time from " stroke,'' so does 
11 six " ; " five " takes time from " seven," 
'* four " from tE six," and so on up either side 
of the boat. The thwarts, upon which the 
runners, or rails, for the seats are screwed, 
are well shown in illustration No, 6. They 
are fastened to the inwale at the sides, and 



a bit of board placed upon 



supported at either end on bulk-heads, which 
are usually pierced or sawn into a shape like 
the pier of a bridge. True bulk- heads, 
which are quite watertight, inclose the 
canvassed ends of the boat ; so that it is 
difficult to sink an eightj and impossible to 
sink a sculling-boat of similar construction 
without breaking her. The shaped bulk- 
heads, which support the thwarts, may be 
seen in illustration No, 4, as well as the 
little ledges by which the thwarts are fastened 
at their sides to the inwale* 

When the eight has been thus built, her 
shell carefully smoothed and varnished, and 

prevent the oar being displaced by a blow 
from a wave. To catch a H crab " with a 
rigger so tied is a fatal error, and results 
in a breakage of something, or somebody. 
Illustration No. 5 shows the eight having the 
last riggers fitted to her, and No. 6 shows 
her complete and ready for the water. 

Like other productions of this world, the 
modem light -ship has passed through a 
gradual course of evolution. It was not 
born an adult. The lines of the hull, the 
methods of construction, the details of out- 
riggers, seats, and so forth, have all of them 
undergone modification at the hands of 


the seats put in, it only remains to bolt on 
her riggers, finish her rudder and add the 
"fin," if she is to have one. The latter is a 
plate of thin metal attached a little behind 
the coxswain's seat, and performs the office 
of a keel. It makes the boat run a straight 
course, and steadies her u swing " when the 
rudder has been used round a corner. For, 
as every coxswain knows, an eight containing 
a crew of 100 stone or more in weight will 
go on swinging for an astonishingly long 
time after the rudder has been u taken off," 
The fin remedies this, to a great extent, but is 
not always used. 

Lastly the riggers are bolted on, with bolts 
which pass right through the wash-boards and 
the special shoulders made to receive them. 
Their form, with the arrangement of the 
stays, is seen in illustration No. 6, The 
rigger itself is of four rods — the single stay 
being regarded as an auxiliary— of which the 
two upper are solid, to enable the "sill," or 
level part of the rigger, to be forged flat, and 
the two lower are tubular. The li tholes/' or 
upright parts of the rigger, and the sill are 
faced with wood ; and the tops of the two 
tholes are bound together with string, to 

various builders ; while in the course of time 
the choice of the actual materials used has 
completely changed. In fact, the racing 
craft of 189 7 is almost as different in 
structure and appearance from the vessels in 
which the " Fathers of the Race ; ' rowed the 
first University match in 1829, as the torpedo- 
destroyer is different to the old-fashioned 
twenty-gun brig. 

Until the year 1840, the race was rowed 
in ships which would seem at the present 
day justly to merit the term " tub." Up 
to that date outriggers had not been used; 
the boats were " in -rigged/ 1 the rowlocks being 
set absolutely upon the gunwales. A craft 
fitted in such style had naturally to be built 
with considerable beam to enable the rowers 
to use an oar of an effective length ; and, 
had the sliding-seat been invented in the 
days of in-rigged boats, the shortness of the 
oars would have been exceedingly in- 

Outriggers were introduced by Henry 
Gasper — father of Mr. John H. Clasper, to 
whom we are indebted for permission to re- 
produce the photographs which illustrate this 
article — in the yeai 1845, 



Am w& 

Bv Bret Hakte. 

E was a "cowboy." A reckless 
qpl and dashing rider, yet mindful 
of his horse's needs ■ good- 
humoured by nature, but quick 
in quarrel \ independent of 
circumstance, yet shy and 
sensitive of opinion ; abstemious by educa- 
tion and general habit, yet intemperate ir. 
amusement; self-centred, yet possessed of 
a childish vanity — taken altogether, a 
characteristic product of the Western plains, 
which he should have never left. 

But reckless adventure after adventure had 
brought him into difficulties, from which 
there was only one equally adventurous 
escape : he joined a company of Indians 
engaged by Buffalo Bill to simulate before 
civilized communities the sports and customs 
of the uncivilized. In divers Christian arenas 
of the Nineteenth century he rode as a 
northern barbarian of the First might have 
disported before the Roman populace, but 
harmlessly, of his own free will, and of some 
little profit to himself. He threw his lasso 
under the curious eyes of languid men and 
women of the world, eager for some new 
sensation, with admiring plaudits from them 
and a half contemptuous egotism of his own. 

VoL sciv.— 4* * Copyright, (897, by Bret Hartc, 

But outside of the arena he was lonely, lost, 
and impatient for excitement. 

An ingenious attempt to M paint the town 
red 71 did not commend itself as a spectacle 
to the householders who lived in the vicinity 
of Earl's Court, London, and Alkali Dick 
was haled before a respectable magistrate by 
a serious policeman, and fined as if he had 
been only a drunken coster. A later attempt 
at Paris to " incarnadine" the neighbourhood 
of the Champs de Mars, and "round up" a 
number of houhvardkrs % met with a more 
disastrous result — the gleam of steel from 
mounted gendarmes, and a mandate to his 

So it came that one night, after the con- 
clusion of the performance, Alkali Dick rode 
out of the corral gate of the Hippodrome 
with his last week's salary in his pocket and 
an imprecation on his lips. He had shaken 
the sawdust of the sham arena from his 
high, tight-fitting boots ; he would shake off 
the white dust of France, and the effeminate 
soil of all Europe, also, and embark, at once, 
for his own country and the Far West ! 

A more practical and experienced man 
would have sold his horse at the nearest 
market and taken train to Havre, but Alkali 

inlhe W^TWffilCHIGAN 



Dick felt himself incomplete on terra fir ma 
without his mustang — it would be hard 
enough to part from it on embarking — and 
he had determined to ride to the seaport. 

The spectacle of a lithe horseman, clad in 
a Rembrandt sombrero, velvet jacket, turn- 
over collar, almost Van Dyke in its pro- 
portions, white trousers and high boots, with 
long, curling hair falling over his shoulders, 
and a pointed beard and moustache, was 
a picturesque one, but, still, not a novelty to 
the late-supping Parisians who looked up 
under the midnight gas as he passed, and 
only recognised one of those men whom 
Paris had agreed to designate as " Booflo- 
bils " going home. 

At three o'clock he pulled up at a wayside 
cabaret^ preferring it to the publicity of a 
larger hotel, and lay there till morning. The 
slight consternation of the ro&wv/-keeper 
and his wife over this long-haired phantom, 
with glittering, deep-set eyes, was soothed by 
a royally-flung gold coin, and a few words of 
French slang picked up in the arena, which, 
with the name of Havre, comprised Dick's 
whole knowledge of the language. But he 
was touched with their ready and intelligent 
comprehension of his needs, and their 
genial if not so comprehensive loquacity. 
Luckily for his quick temper, he did not 
know that they had taken him for a travelling 
quack-doctor going to the Fair of Yvetot, 
and that Madame had been on the point of 
asking him for a magic balsam to prevent 

He was up betimes and away, giving a 
wide berth' to the larger towns ; taking by- 
ways and cut-offs, yet always with the 
Western pathfinder's instinct, even among 
these alien, poplar-haunted plains, low-banked 
willow-fringed rivers, and cloverless meadows. 
The white sun shining everywhere — on 
dazzling arbours, summer-houses, and trellises; 
on light green vines and delicate pea-rows ; on 
the white trousers, jackets, and shoes of smart 
shop-keepers or holiday-makers; on the white 
headdresses of nurses and the white-ringed 
caps of the Sisters of St. Vincent — all this 
grew monotonous to this native of still more 
monotonous w r astes. The long, black shadows 
of short, blue-skirted, sabotted women and 
short, blue-bloused, sabotted men slowly 
working in the fields, with slow oxen, or still 
slower heavy Norman horses ; the same 
horses gaily bedecked, dragging slowly not 
only heavy waggons, but their own apparently 
more monstrous weight over the white road, 
fretted his nervous Western energy, and 
made him impatient to get on. 

gitized by t^OOglC 

At the close of the second day he found 
some relief on entering a trackless wood — 
not the usual formal avenue of equi-distant 
trees; leading to nowhere, and stopping upon 
the open field — but apparently a genuine 
forest as wild as one of his own " oak 
bottoms/' Gnarled roots and twisted 
branches flung themselves across his path ; 
his mustang's hoofs sank in deep pits of 
moss and last year's withered leaves ; trailing 
vines caught his heavy-stirruped feet, or 
brushed his broad sombrero ; the vista before 
him seemed only to endlessly repeat the 
same sylvan glade ; he was in fancy once 
more in the primeval Western forest, and 
encompassed by its vast, dim silences. He 
did not know that he had in fact only pene- 
trated an ancient park, which, in former 
days, resounded to the winding fanfare of 
the chase, and was still, on stated occasions, 
swept over by accurately green - coated 
Parisians and green-plumed Diane's^ who 
had come down by train ! To him it 
meant only unfettered and unlimited 

He rose in his stirrups, and sent a 
characteristic yell ringing down the dim aisles 
before him. But, alas ! at the same moment, 
his mustang, accustomed to the firmer grip of 
the prairie, in lashing out, stepped upon a 
slimy root, and fell heavily, rolling over his 
qfinging and still undislodged rider. For a 
few moments both lay still. Then Dick 
extricated himself with an oath, rose giddily, 
dragged up his horse — who, after the fashion 
of his race, was meekly succumbing to his 
reclining position — and then became aware 
that the unfortunate beast was badly 
sprained in the shoulder,' and temporarily 
lame. The sudden recollection that he was 
some miles from the road, and that the sun 
was sinking, concentrated his scattered 
faculties. The prospect of sleeping out in that 
summer woodland was nothing to the pioneer- 
bred Dick ; he could make his horse and 
himself comfortable anywhere — but he was 
delaying his arrival at Havre. He must 
regain the high road — or some wayside inn. 
He glanced around him ; the westering sun 
was a guide for his general direction, the 
road must follow it north or south ; he would 
find a " clearing " somewhere. But here 
Dick was mistaken ; there seemed no inter- 
ruption of, no encroachment upon, this sylvan 
tract, as in his Western woods. There was 
no track or trail to be found ; he missed 
even the ordinary woodland signs that 
denoted the path of animals' to water. For 
the park, from the time a Norman Duke had 




lirst alienated it from the virgin fores t, had 
been rigidly preserved 

Suddenly, rising apparently from the 
ground before him, he saw the high roof- 
ridges and tourelks of a long, irregular, 
gloomy building. A few steps further showed 
him that it lay in a cup-like depression of 
the forest, and that it was still a long descent 
from where he had wandered to where it 
stood in the gathering darkness. His 
mustang was moving with great difficulty; 
he uncoiled his larhit from the saddle-horn, 
andj selecting the most open space, tied one 
end to the trunk of a large tree — the forty 
feet of horse-hair rope giving the animal a 
sufficient degree of grazing freedom. 

Then he strode more 
quickly down the forest 
side towards the build- 
ing, which now revealed 
its austere proportions, 
though Dick could see 
that they were mitigated 
by a strange, formal / 
flower-garden, with 
quaint statues and foun- 
tains. There were gr i m 
black alihs of clipped 
trees, a curiously 
wrought iron gate, and 
twisted iron espaliers. 
On one side the edifice 
was supported by a 
great stone terrace, 
which seemed to him 
as broad as a Parisian 
boulevard* Yet every- 
where it appeared sleep- 
ing in the desertion and 
silence of the summer 
twilight The evening 
breeze swayed the lace 
curtains at the tall windows^ but nothing else 
moved. To the unsophisticated Western man, 
it looked like a scene on the stage. 

His progress was, however, presently 
checked by the first sign of preservation he 
had met in the forest— a thick hedge, which 
interfered between him and a sloping lawn 
beyond. It was up to his waist, yet he 
began to break his way through it, when 
suddenly he was arrested by the sound of 
voices. Before him, on the lawn, a man 
and woman, evidently servants, were slowly 
advancing, peering into the shadows of the 
wood which he had just left He could not 
understand what they were saying, but he 
was about to speak and indicate his desire 
to find the road by signs, when the woman, 

turning towards her companion, caught 
sight of his face and shoulders above the 
hedge. To his surprise and consternation, he 
saw the colour drop out of her fresh cheeks, 
her round eyes fix in their sockets, and with a 
despairing shriek, she turned and fled towards 
the house. The man turned at his com- 
panion's cry, gave the same horrified glance 
at Dick*s face, uttered a hoarse " Satrif n 
crossed himself violently, and fled also ! 

Amazed, indignant, and for the first time 
in his life humiliated, Dick gazed speech- 
lessly after them. The man, of course, was a 
sneaking coward— but the woman was rather 


pretty. It had not been Dick's experience 
to have women run from him! Should he 
follow them, knock the silly fellow's head 
against a tree, and demand an explanation? 
Alas I he knew not the language ! They had 
already reached the house and disappeared in 
one of the offices. Well ! Let them go— 
for a mean, "low down" pair of country 
bumpkins ! — he wanted no favours from them ! 
He turned back angrily into the forest to 
seek his unlucky beast. The gurgle of water 
fell on his ear ; hard by was a spring, where 




at least he could water the mustang. He 
stooped to examine it ; there was yet light 
enough in the sunset sky to throw back from 
that little mirror the reflection of his thin, oval 
face, his long, curling hair, and his pointed 
beard and moustache. Yes ! this was his 
face — the face that many women in Paris had 
agreed was romantic and picturesque. Had 
those wretched greenhorns never seen a real 
man before ? Were they idiots, or insane ? 
A sudden recollection of the silence and the 
seclusion of the building suggested certainly 
an asylum — but where were the keepers? 

It was getting darker in the wood; he 
made haste to recover his horse, to drag it to 
the spring, and there bathe its shoulder in the 
w r ater mixed with whisky taken from his flask. 
His saddle-bag contained enough bread and 
meat for his own supper ; he would camp out 
for the night where he was, and with the first 
light of dawn make his way back through the 
wood whence he came. As the light slowly 
faded from the wood he rolled himself in his 
saddle-blanket and lay down. 

But not to sleep ! His strange position, 
the accident to his horse, an unusual irritation 
over the incident of the frightened servants- 
trivial as it might have been to any other 
man — and above all, an increasing childish 
curiosity, kept him awake and restless. 
Presently he could see also that it was 
growing lighter beyond the edge of the 
wood, and that the rays of a young crescent 
moon, while it plunged the forest into dark- 
ness and impassable shadow, evidently was 
illuminating the hollow below. He threw 
aside his blanket, and made his way to the 
hedge again. He was right ; he could see 
the quaint, formal lines of the old garden 
more distinctly — the broad terrace — the 
queer, dark bulk of the house, with lights 
now gleaming from a few of its open 

Before one of these windows opening on 
the terrace was a small, white, draped table 
with fruits, cups and glasses, and two or 
three chairs. As he gazed curiously at these 
new signs of life and occupation, he became 
aware of a regular and monotonous tap upon 
the stone flags of the terrace. Suddenly he 
saw three figures slowly turn the corner of 
the terrace at the further end of the building, 
and walk towards the table. The central 
figure was that of an elderly woman, yet tall 
and stately of carriage, walking with a stick, 
whose regular tap he had heard, supported 
on the one side by an elderly atre in black 
soutaine, and on the other by a tall and 
slender girl in white. 

They walked leisurely to the other end of 
the terrace, as if performing a regular exer- 
cise, and returned, stopping before the open 
French window ; where, after remaining in 
conversation a few moments, the elderly lady 
and her ecclesiastical companion entered. 
The young girl sauntered slowly to the steps 
of the terrace, and leaning against a huge vase 
as she looked over the garden, seemed lost 
in contemplation. Her face was turned 
towards the wood, but in quite another 
direction from where he stood. 

There was something so gentle, refined, 
and graceful in her figure, yet dominated by 
a girlish youthfulness of movement and 
gesture, that Alkali Dick was singularly 
interested. He had probably never seen an 
ingenue before ; he had certainly never come 
in contact with a girl of that caste and 
seclusion in his brief Parisian experience. 
He was sorely tempted to leave his hedge 
and try to obtain a nearer view of her. 
There was a fringe of lilac bushes running 
from the garden up the slope; if he could 
gain their shadows, he could descend into 
the garden. What he should do after his 
arrival, he had not thought ; but he had one 
idea — he knew not why — that if he ventured 
to speak to her he would not be met with 
the abrupt rustic terror he had experienced 
at the hands of the servants. She was 
not of that kind ! He crept through 
the hedge, reached the lilacs, and began 
the descent softly and securely in jhe 
shadoV But at the same moment she 
arose, called in a youthful voice towards the 
open window, and began to descend the steps. 
A half-expostulating reply came from the 
window, but the young girl answered it with 
the laughing, capricious confidence of a 
spoiled child, and continued her way into 
the garden. Here she paused a moment 
and hung over a rose tree, from which she 
gathered a flower, which she thrust into her 
belt. Dick paused, too, half-crouching, half- 
leaning over a lichen-stained, cracked stone 
pedestal from which the statue had long 
been overthrown and forgotten. 

To his surprise, however, the young girl, 
following the path to the lilacs, began 
leisurely to ascend the hill, swaying from 
side to side with a youthful movement, and 
swinging the long stalk of a lily at her side. 
In another moment he would be discovered ! 
Dick was frightened ; his confidence of the 
moment before had all gone ; he would fly — 
and yet, an exquisite and fearful joy kept 
him motionless. She was approaching him, 
full and cleaifJLijqii-i^efi-^ioonlight. He could 



2 9 

see the grace of her delicate figure m 
the simple white frock drawn at the 
waist with broad satin ribbon, and its love- 
knots of pale blue ribbons on her shoulders ; 
he could see the coils of her brown hair, the 
pale, olive tint of her oval cheek, the delicate, 
swelling nostril of her straight, clear-cut nose ; 
he could even smell the lily she carried in 
her little hand. Then, suddenly, she lifted 
her long lashes, and her large grey eyes met 

Alas ! the same look of vacant horror came 
into her eyes, and 
fixed and dilated 
their clear pupils. 
But she uttered no 
outcry — there was 
something in her 
blood that checked 
it — something that 
even gave a dignity 
to her recoiling 
figure, and made 
Dick flush with ad- 
miration. She put 
her hand to her 
side, as if the shock 
of the exertion of 
her ascent had set 
her heart to beat- 
ing, but she did not 
faint. Then her 
fixed look gave way 
to one of infinite 
sadness, pity, and 
pathetic appeal. 
Her lips were parted 
— they seemed to 
be moving, appa- 
rently in prayer. 
At last her voice 
ca me, wo n deri n giy, 
timidly, tenderly :— 

" Mon Dien! de$t 
d&nev&us? IcL CVj/ 
irons que Marie a 

cru voir ! Que venez vous /aire ia\ Armand 
de Eon tone Iks I Repondez ! n 

Alas, not a word was comprehensible to 
Dick ; nor could he think of a word to say 
in reply. He made an uncouth, half- 
irritated, half-despairing gesture towards the 
wood he had quitted, as if to indicate his 
helpless horse, but he knew it was meaning-, 
less to the frightened yet exalted girl before 
him. Her little hand crept to her breast 
and clutched a rosary within the folds of her 
dress, as her soft voice again arose, low but 
appealmgly : — 

Digitized by \j< 

" Vous souffrez ! Afu won Die a ! Pent on 
Vous secourir f Moi mhne—mes pr tires 
pourraieni elks inierceder pour vous t Je 
sitpp/ierai le Ckl de prendre en pi tic fame de 
man and ire. Monsieur k Cure est la—je lui 
parkrai Lui et ma mere vous vkndroni en 
aide. 19 

She clasped her hands appeal ingly before 



Dick stood bewil- 
dered, hopeless, 
mystified ; he had 
not understood a 
word ; he could not say 
a word. For an instant 
he had a wild idea of seiz- 
ing her hand and leading 
her to his helpless horse, and then came what 
he believed was his salvation — a sudden flash 
of recollection that he had seen the word he 
wanted, the one word that would explain all, 
in a placarded notice at the Cirque of a 
bracelet that had been lost— yes, the single 
word "perdu" He made a step towards her, 
and in voice almost as faint as her own, 
stammered : H Perdu ! ,J 

With a little cry, that was more like a sigh 
than an outcry, the girl's arms fell to her 
side ; she took a step backwards, reeled, and 
fainted away>iginal from 




Dick caught her as she fell. What had, he 
said !— but, more than all, what should he 
do now ? He could not leave her alone and 
helpless — yet how could he justify another 
disconcerting intrusion? He touched her 
hands, they were cold and lifeless— her eyes 
were half-closed, her face as pale and droop- 
ing as her lily. Well, he must brave the 
worst now — and carry her to the house, even 
at the risk of meeting the others and terrifying 
them as he had her. He caught her up— he 
scarcely felt her weight against his breast and 
shoulder, and ran hurriedly down the slope 
to the terrace, which was still deserted. If 
he had time to place her on some bench 
beside the window, within their reach, be 
might still fly undiscovered ! But as he 
panted up the steps of the terrace with his 
burden, he saw that the Trench window was 
still open, but the light seemed to have been 
extinguished. It would be safer for her if 
he could place her inside the house— if 
he but dared to enter He was desperate — 
and he dared ! 

He found himself alone, in a long salon 
of rich but faded white and gold hangings, lit 
at the further end by two tall candles on either 
side of the high marble mantel, whose rays, 
however, scarcely 
reached the window 
where he had entered* 
He laid his burden on 
a high-backed sofa. In 
so doing, the rose fell 
from her belt. He 
picked it up, put it in 
his breast, and turned to 
go. Rut he was arrested 
by a voice from the 
terrace r— 

" Renke ! " 

It was the voice of 
the elderly lady, who, 
with the cure at her side, 
had just appeared from 
the rear of the house, and 
from the further end of 
the terrace was looking 
towards the garden in 
search of the young girl. 
His escape in that way 
was cut off. To add to 
his dismay, the young 
girl, perhaps roused by her mother's voice, 
was beginning to show signs of recovering 
consciousness. Dick looked quickly around 
him. There was an open door, opposite 
the window, leading to a hall which, no 
doubt, offered some exit Qn the other 

Digitized by G* 

side of the house. It was his only re- 
maining chance ! He darted through it, 
closed it behind him, and found himself at 
the end of a long hall or picture-gallery, 
strangely illuminated through high windows, 
reaching nearly to the roof, by the moon, 
which on that side of the building threw 
nearly level bars of light and shadows across 
the floor and the quaint portraits on the wall 

But to his delight he could see at the other 
end a narrow, lance-shaped open postern 
door showing the moonlit pavement without 
— evidently the door through which die 
mother and the cure had just passed out. He 
ran rapidly towards it. As he did so he heard 
the hurried ringing of bells and voices in the 
room he had quitted— the young girl had 
evidently been discovered — and this would 
give him time. He had nearly reached the 
door, when he stopped suddenly — his blood 
chilled with awe ! It was his turn to be terrified 

he was standing, apparently, before himself! 

His first recovering thought was that it was 
a mirror — so accurately was every line and 
detail of his face and figure reflected. But a 
second scrutiny showed some discrepancies 
of costume, and he saw it was a panelled 
portrait on the wall It was of a man of his 






own age, height, beard, complexion, and 
features, with long curls like his own, falling 
over^a lace Van Dyke collar, which, however, 
again simulated the appearance of his own 
hunting- shirt. The broad -brimmed hat in 
the picture, whose drooping plume was lost 
in shadow, was scarcely different from Dick's 
sombrero. But the likeness of the face to 
Dick was marvellous— -convincing ! As he 
gazed at it, the wicked, black eyes seemed to 
fiash and kindle at his own — its lip curled 
with Dick's own sardonic humour ! 

He was recalled to himself by a step in 
the gallery. It was the cure who had 
entered hastily, evidently in search of one of 
the servants. Partly because it was a man 
and not a woman, partly from a feeling of 
bravado — and partly from a strange sense, 
excited by the picture, that he had some 
claim to be there, he turned and faced the 
pale priest with a slight dash 
of impatient devilry that 
would have done credit to 
the portrait But he was 
sorry for it the next 
moment ! 

The priest, looking up 
suddenly, discovered what 
seemed to him to be the 
portrait standing before its 
own frame and glaring at 
him. Throwing up his hands 
with an averted head and an 

£i Exorcis / " he wheeled 

and scuffled away. Dick 
seized the opportunity, 
darted through the narrow 
door on to the rear terrace, 
and ran, under cover of the 
shadow of the houses to 
the steps into the garden. 
Luckily for him, this new 
and unexpected diversion 
occupied the inmates too 
much with what was going 
on in the house, to give 
them time to search out- 
side, Dick reached the lilac hedge. 1 , ton- up 
the hill, and in a few moments threw himself, 
panting, on his blanket. In the single look 
he had cast behind, he had seen that the 
half-dark saten was now brilliantly lit— where 
no doubt the whole terrified household was 
now assembled. He had no fear of being 
followed ; since his confrontation with his 
own likeness in the mysterious portrait, he 
understood everything. The apparently 
supernatural character of his visitation was 
made plain ; his ruffled vanity was 

soothed — his vindication was complete. 
He laughed to himself and rolled about, 
until in his suppressed merriment the 
rose fell from his bosom, and — he 
stopped 1 Its freshness and fragrance 
recalled the innocent young girl he had 
frightened. He remembered her gentle, 
pleading voice, and his cheek flushed. Well, 
he had done the best he could in bringing 
her back to the house— at the risk of being 

taken for a burglar — and she was safe now ! 
If that stupid French parson didn't know 
the difference between a living man and 
a dead and painted one — it wasn't his fault, 
13 ut he fell asleep with the rose in his fingers. 
He was awake at the first streak of dawn. 
He again bathed his horse's shoulder, 
saddled, but did not mount him, as the 
beast, although better, was still stiff, and 
Dick wished to spare him for the journey to 
still distant Havre, although he had deter- 
mined to lie over that night at the first way- 




side inn. Luckily for him> the disturbance 
at the Chateau had not extended to the 
forest, for Dick had to lead his horse slowly 
and could not have escaped, but no suspicion 
of external intrusion seemed to have been 
awakened, and the woodland was, evidently, 
seldom invaded. 

By dint of laying his course by the sun 
and the exercise of a little woodcraft, in the 
course of two hours he heard the creaking 
of a hay-cart, and knew that he was near a 
travelled road. But to his discomfiture he 
presently came to a 
high wall, which had 
evidently guarded 
this portion of the 
woods from the 
public. Time, how- 
ever, had made fre- 
quent breaches if) 
the stones ; these 
had been roughly 
filled in with a rude 
afrath of logs and 
tree tops pointing 
towards the road. 
But as these were 
mainly designed to 
prevent intrusion 
into the park rather 
than egress from it, 
Dick had no diffi- 
culty in rolling them 
aside and emerging 
at last with his limp- 
ing steed upon the 
white, high road. 
The creaking cart 
had passed ; it was 
yet early for traffic, 
and Dick presently 
came upon a wine- 
shop, a bakery, a blacksmith's shop, laundry, 
and a somewhat pretentious cafe and hotel 
in a broader space which marked the junction 
of another road. 

Directly before it, however, to his conster- 
nation, were; the massive, but time-worn, iron 
gates of a park, which Dick did not doubt 
was the one in which he had spent the 
previous night. But it was impossible to go 
further in his present plight, and he boldly 
approached the restaurant. As he was 
preparing to make his usual explanatory 
signs, to his great delight he was addressed 
in a quaint, broken English, mixed with 
forgotten American slang, by the white- 
trousered, black alpaca -coated proprietor. 
More than that —he was a Social Democrat 

Digitized by G< 


and an enthusiastic lover of America — had 
he not been to l£ Bos-town " and New York, 
and penetrated as far West as ( * Booflo n ? — 
and had much pleasure in that beautiful and 
free country! Yes! it was a " go-a- 5 ed " 
country— you " bet-your-lif," One had reason 
to say so —there was your electricity — your 
street cars — your " steambots ? ' — ah ! such 
steambots — and your " r-rail-r-roads." Ah! 
observe ! compare your r-rail-r-roads and the 
buffet of the Pullman with the line from 
Paris, for example — and where is one ? No- 
where ! Actually, 
positively, without 
doubly nowhere ! 

Later, ^t an appe- 
tizing breakfast —at 
which, to Dick's 
great satisfaction, 
the good man had 
permitted and con- 
gratulated himself to 
sit at table with a 
free-born Am erican 
—he was even more 
loquacious. For 
what then, he would 
ask, was this incom- 
petence — this imbe- 
cility — of France ? 
He - would tell. It 
was the vile corrup- 
tion of Paris, the 
grasping of capital 
and companies, the 
fatal influence of 
the still dinging 
nob/ess€ } and the 
insidious Jesuitical 
power of the priests. 
lqvek of America/' As f o r example, 

Monsieur " the 
Booflo-bil ,? had doubtless noticed the great 
gates of the park before the cafk f It was 
the preserve— the hunting-park of one of the 
old grand seigneurs, still kept up by his 
descendants, the Counts of Fontonelles — 
hundreds of acres that had never been tilled, 
and kept as wild waste wilderness— kept for 
a day's pleasure in a ye^ir ! And, look you ! 
the peasants starving around its walls in 
their small garden patches and pinched 
farms ! And the present Comte de 
Fontonelles cascading gold on his mistresses 
in Paris ; and the Comtesse, his mother, 
and her daughter living there to feed 
and fatten and pension a brood of plotting, 
black-cowled priests. Ah, bah ! where was 
your Republican France, then ? But a time 




would come: The " Booflo-bil " had, without 
doubt, noticed, as he came along the road, 
the breaches in the wall of the park ? 

Dick, with a slight dry reserve, " reckoned 
that he had." 

" They were made by the scythes and 
pitchforks of the peasants in the Revolution 
of '93, when the Count was emigri, as one 
says with reason : * skedaddle,' to England. 
Let them look the next time that they burn 
not the Chateau— 4 bet your lif ' ! " 

" The Chateau," said Dick, with affected 
carelessness. "Wot's the blamed thing 
like?" . 

It was an old affair — with armour and a 
picture-gallery — and bric-d-brac. He had 
never seen it. Not even as a boy — it was 
kept very secluded then. As a man — you 
understand — he could not ask the favour. 
The Comtes de Fontonelles and himself were 
not friends. The family did not like a cafe near 
their sacred gates — where had stood only 
the huts of their retainers. The American 
would observe that he had not called it 
" Cafe de Ch&teauJ' nor " Cafe de Fontonelles " 
— the gold of California would not induce 
him. Why did he remain there ? Naturally, 
to goad them ! It was a principle, one under- 
stood ! To goad them and hold them in 
check ! One kept a cafe — why not ? One 
had one's principles — one's convictions — 
that was another thing ! That was the kind 
of " 'air-pin " — was it not ? — that Ae, Gustav 
Ribaud, was like ! 

Yet for all his truculent Socialism, he was 
quick, obliging, and charmingly attentive to 
Dick and his needs. As to Dick's horse, he 
should have the best veterinary surgeon — 
there was an incomparable one in the person 
of the blacksmith — see to him, and if it 
were an affair of days, and Dick must go, he 
himself would be glad to purchase the beast, 
his saddle, and accoutrements. It was an 
affair of business — an advertisement for the 
cafe! He would ride the horse himself 
before the gates of the park. It would please 
his customers. Ha ! He had learned a 
trick or two in free America. 

Dick's first act had been to shave off his 
characteristic beard and moustache, and even 
to submit his long curls to the village barber's 
shears, while a straw hat, which he bought to 
take the place of his slouched sombrero \ 
completed his transformation. His host 
saw in the change only the natural preparation 
of a voyager, but Dick had really made the 
sacrifice, not from fear of detection, for he 
had recovered his old swaggering audacity, 
but from a quick distaste he had taken 

VoL xiv.— 6. 

to his resemblance to the portrait. He was 
too genuine a Westerner, and too vain a 
man, to feel flattered at his resemblance to 
an aristocratic bully, as he believed the 
ancestral De Fontonelles to be. Even his 
momentary sensation as he faced the cure in 
the picture-gallery was more from a vague 
sense that liberties had been taken with his, 
Dick's, personality, than that he had borrowed 
anything from the portrait. 

But he was not so clear about the young 
girl. Her tender, appealing voice, although 
he knew it had been addressed only to a 
vision — still thrilled his fancy. The pluck 
that had made her withstand her fear so 
long until he had uttered that dreadful 
word— still excited his admiration. His 
curiosity to know what mistake he had 
made — for he knew it must have been 
some frightful blunder — was all the more 
keen, as he had no chance to rectify it 
What a brute she must have thought him — 
or did she really think him a brute even 
then? — for her look was one more of despair 
and pity ! Yet she would remember him 
only by that last word — and never know that 
he had risked insult and ejection from her 
friends to carry her to a place of safety. He 
could not bear to go across the seas carrying 
the pale, unsatisfied face of that gentle girl 
ever before his eyes ! A sense of delicacy — 
new to Dick, but always the accompaniment 
of deep feeling — kept him from even hinting 
his story to his host ; though he knew — 
perhaps because he knew — that it would 
gratify his enmity to the family. A sudden 
thought struck Dick. He knew her house 
— and her name. He would write her a note. 
Somebody would be sure to translate it for 

He borrowed pen, ink, and pape , and in 
the clean solitude of his fresh chintz bed- 
room, indited the following letter : — 

" Dear Miss Fontonelles, — Please 
excuse me for having skeert you. I hadn't any 
call to do it; I never reckoned to do it — it 
was all jest my derned luck ! I only reckoned 
to tell you I was lost — in them blamed 
woods — don't you remember ? — * lost ' — 
perdoo ! — and then you up and fainted ! 
I wouldn't have come into your garden, 
only, you see, I'd just skeered by accident 
two of your helps, reg'lar softies, and I 
wanted to explain. I reckon they allowed 
I was that man that that picter in the hall 
was painted after. I reckon they took me 
for him — see ? But he ain't my style, nohow, 
and I never saw the picter at all until after 
I'd toted you, when you fainted, up to your 




house, or Yd have made my kalkilations and 
acted according, I'd have laid low in the 
woods, and got away without skeeriri' you. 
You see what I mean ? It was mighty mean 
of me, I suppose, to have tetched you at alI T 
without saying * excuse me, miss, 1 and toted 
you out of the garden and up the steps into 
your own parlour without asking your leave* 
But the whole thing tumbled so suddent And 
it didn't seem the square thing for me to lite 
out and leave you lying there on the grass. 
That's why ! I'm sorry I skeert that old 
preacher, but he came upon me in the picter 
hall so suddent, that it was a mighty close 
call, I tell you, to get off without a shindy. 
Please forgive me, Miss Fontonelles* When 
you get this, I shall be going back home to 
America, but you might write to me at 
Denver City, saying you're all right. I liked 
your style ; I liked your grit in standing up to 
me in the garden until you had your say, 
when you thought I was the Lord knows 
what — though I never understood a word 
you got off— not knowing French. But it's 
all the same now, Say ! I've got your rose ! 
41 Yours very respectfully, 

" Richard Fountains/' 

Dick folded the epistle and put it in his 

pocket. He would post it himself on the 

morning before he left When he came 

Digitized by tjOOg 10 

downstairs he found his indefatigable 
host awaiting him, with the report of the 
veterinary blacksmith. There was nothing 
seriously wrong with the nm sting, but it 
would be unfit to travel for several days. 
The landlord repeated his former offer, 
Dick, whose money was pretty well ex- 
hausted, was fain to accept, reflecting that 
she had never seen the mustang and 
would not recognise it. But he drew 
the line at the sombrero^ to which his 
host had taken a great fancy. He had 
worn it before her / 

Later in the evening Dick was sitting 
on the low veranda of the cafe % overlook- 
ing the white road- A round, white table 
was beside him, his feet were on the 
railing, but his eyes were resting beyond 
on the high, mouldy iron gates of the 
mysterious park. What he was thinking 
of did not matter, but he was a little 
impatient at the sudden appearance of his 
host — whom he had evaded during the 
afternoon— at his side. The man's manner 
was full of bursting loquacity and mys- 
terious levity. 

Truly, it was a good hour when Dick 
had arrived at Fontonelles — "just in 
time." He could see now' what a world 
of imbeciles was France, What stupid igno- 
rance ruled, what low cunning and low tact 
could achieve in effect, what jugglers and 
mountebanks, hypocritical priests and licen- 
tious and lying noblesse went to make up exist- 
ing society. Ah, there had been a fine excite- 
ment, a regular coup dtfmtre at Fontonelles 
— the Chateau yonder; here at the village, 
where the news wa*s brought by frightened 
grooms and silly women ! He had been in 
the thick of it all the afternoon ! He had 
examined it — interrogated them like a juge 
d instruction — winnowed it, sifted it. And 
what was it all? An attempt by these 
wretched priests and nobksse to revive in 
the nineteenth century — the age of electricity 
and Pullman cars — a miserable mediaeval 
legend of on apparition — a miracle ! 
Yes ! — One is asked to believe that at the 
Chateau yonder was seen last night 
three times the apparition of Armand de 
Fontonelles \ 

Dick started- " Armand de Fontonelles ! " 
He remembered that she had repeated that 
name ! 

u Who's he?" he demanded, abruptly. 
"The first Comte de Fontonelles ! "when 
monsieur knows that the first Comte has 
been dead three hundred years — he will 
see the imbecility of the affair ■ " 




" Wot did he come back for ? " growled 

" Ah ! — it was a legend. Consider its 
artfulness ! The Comte Armand had been 
a hard liver, a dissipated scoundrel, a reckless 
beast, but a mighty hunter of the stag. It 
was said that on one of these occasions he 
had been warned by the apparition of St. 
Hubert, but he had laughed — for, observe, 
he always jeered at the priests too ; hence 
this story ! — and had declared that the flaming 
cross seen between the horns of the sacred 
stag was only the torch of a poacher, and he 
would shoot it ! Good ! the body of the Comte, 
dead, but without a wound, was found in the 
wood the next day, with his discharged 
arquebus in his hand. The Archbishop of 
Rouen refused his body the rites of the 
Church until a number of masses were said 
every year and — paid for ! One under- 
stands ! one sees their * little game ' ; the 
Count now appears — he is in . purgatory ! 
More masses — more money ! There you 
are. Bah ! One understands, too, that the 
affair takes place, not in a cafe like this— not 
in a public place — but at a chateau of the 
noblesse, and is seen by," the proprietor 
checked the characters on his fingers, "two 
retainers; one young demoiselle of the noblesse, 
daughter of the chatelaine herself; and, my 
faith, it goes without saying, by a fat priest, 
the cure I In effect — two interested ones! 
And the priest — his lie is magnificent ! 
Superb ! For he saw the Comte in the picture- 
gallery — in effect —stepping into his frame ! " 

" Oh, come off the roof," said Dick, im- 
patiently; "they must have seen something, 
you know. The young lady wouldn't lie ! " 

Monsieur Ribaud leaned over, with a 
mysterious, cynical smile, and lowering his 
voice, said : — 

" You have reason to say so. You have 
hit it, my friend. There was a something ! 
And if we regard the young lady, you shall 
hear. The story of Mademoiselle de Font- 
onelles is that she has walked by herself alone 
in the garden — you observe alone — in the 
moonlight, near the edge of the wood. You 
comprehend ? The mother and the cure are 
in the house— for the time effaced ! Here 
at the edge of the wood — though why she 
continues, a young demoiselle, to the edge 
of the wood does not make itself clear — she 
beholds her ancestor — as on a pedestal — 
young, pale, but very handsome and exalte— 
pardon ! " 

" Nothing," said Dick, hurriedly ; " go 


" She beseeches him why ! He says he 

Digitized by COOglC 

is lost ! She faints away, on the instant, 
there — regard me ! — on the edge of the 
wood — she says. But her mother and 
Monsieur le Curi find her pale, agitated, 
distressed on the sofa in the salon. One is 
asked to believe that she is transported 
through the air— like an angel — by the spirit 
of Armand de Fontonelles. Incredible ! " 

"Well, wot do you think?" said Dick, 

The cafe proprietor looked around him 
carefully, and then lowered his voice 
significantly : — 

"A lover!" 

" A what ! " said Dick, with a gasp. 

"A lover!" repeated Ribaud. "You 
comprehend ! Mademoiselle has no dot — 
the property is nothing — the brother has 
everything. A Mademoiselle de Fontonelles 
cannot marry out of her class, and the noblesse 
are all poor. Mademoiselle is young — pretty 
they say, of her kind. It is an intolerable life 
at the old Chateau ; Mademoiselle consoles 

Monsieur Ribaud never knew how near he 
was to the white road below the railing at 
that particular moment. Luckily, Dick 
controlled himself, and wisely, as M. Ribaud's 
next sentence showed him. 

" A romance — an innocent, foolish liaison, 
if you like — but, all the same, if known of 
a Mademoiselle de Fontonelles, a com- 
promising — a fatal— entanglement There 
you are — look ! For this, then, all this story 
of cock and bulls and spirits ! Mademoiselle 
has been discovered with her lover by some- 
one. This pretty story shall stop their 
mouths ! " 

" But wot," said Dick, brusquely, " wot if 
the girl was really skeert at something she'd 
seen, and fainted dead away, as she said she 
did — and — and — " he hesitated— "some 
stranger came along and picked her up ? " 

Monsieur Ribaud looked at him pityingly. 

" A Mademoiselle de Fontonelles is picked 
up by her servants, by her family, but not by 
the young man in the woods, alone. It is 
even more compromising ! " 

" Do you mean to say," said Dick, 
furiously, " that the rag-pickers and sneaks 
that wade around in the slumgallion of this 
country, would dare to spatter that young 

"I mean to say, yes — assuredly, positively 
yes ! " said Ribaud, rubbing his hands with a 
certain satisfaction at Dick's fury. " For you 
comprehend not the position of la jeune file 
in all France ! Ah ! in America, the young 
lady she go everywhere alone ; I have seen 




her — pretty, charming, fascinating — alone 
with the young man. But here, no ! never ! 
Regard me, my friend. The French mother, 
she say to her daughtcrtjtoitfj 4 Look ! there 
is my daughter. She has never been atone, 
with a young man, for five minutes — not even 
with you + Take her for your wife ! ' It is 
monstrous ! — it is impossible !— it is so ! " 

There was a silence of a few minutes, and 
Dick looked blankly at the iron gates of the 
park of Fontonelles. Then he said : " Give 
me a cigar/' 

M, Ribaud instantly produced his cigar- 
case, Dick took a cigar, but waved aside 
the proffered match, and entering the 
cafe y took from his pocket the letter to 
Mademoiselle de Fontonellej twisted it in a 
spiral, lighted it at a candle, lit his cigar 
with it , and returning to the veranda, held 
it in his hand until the last ashes dropped 
on the floor. Then he said, gravely, to 
Ribaud : — 

" You've treated me like a white man, 
Frenchy, and I ain't goin 7 back on yer— tho' 
your ways ain't my ways— nohow; but I reckon 
in this yer matter, at the Shotto you're a 
little too previous 1 For though I don't as a 
ginral thing take stock in ghosts, / believe 
every word 
that thtim foil: 
said up ihar. 
And," he 
added, lean- 
ing his hand 
heavily on 
shoulder, " if 
you're the 
man I take 
you for, youll 
believe it tool 
And if that 
chap, Armand 
de Fonton- 
elles, hadn't 

hev picked up that gal, at that moment, he 
would hev deserved to roast in hell another 
three hundred years ! That's why I believe 
her story. So you'll let these yer Fontonelles 
keep their ghosts for all they're worth ; and 
when you next feel inclined to talk about 
that girl's lover — you'll think of me — and 
shut your head ! You hear me, Frenchy, 
I'm shoutin' ! And don't you forget it ! " 

NeverthelesSj early the next morning M. 
Ribaud accompanied his guest to the railway 
station, and parted from him with great 
effusion. On his way back an old-fashioned 
carriage with a postilion passed him. At a 
sign from its occupart, the postilion pulled 
up, and M, Ribaud, bowing to the dust, 
approached the window, and the pale, stern 
face of a dignified, white-haired woman of 
sixty that looked from it, 

" Has he gone ? " said the lady. 
H Assuredly, rnadame ; I was with him at 
the station. n 

"And you think no one saw him ?" 
" No one, rnadame, but myself," 
" And — what kind of a man was he?" 
M. Ribaud lifted his shoulders, threw 
out his hands despairingly, yet with a 
world of significance, and said :■ — 

"An Ameri- 
H Ah ! " 
The car- 
riage drove 
on and en- 
tered the 
gates of the 
Chateau* And 
M. Ribaud, 
cafe proprie- 
tor and Social 
himself in 
the dust, and 
shook his fist 
after it. 

by Google 

Original from 

Ourselves in Figure and Diagram. 


T is with a certain feeling of 
diffidence that we offer an 
article and a series of diagrams 
illustrating the dimensions of 
our own business, but evidence 
is not lacking that such par- 
ticulars as we purpose giving are of consider- 
able interest to a great part of the public. 
The large numbers of people of all degrees 
who have availed themselves of the oppor- 
tunity of inspecting our printing processes, 
and in particular the production of complete 
folded and stitched copies of Tit-Bits from 
one machine at the rate of about seven 
a second, convinces us that we shall 
not be accused of anything in the nature 
of boast fulness in the illustrations we 
shall offer. The facts exist, the figures are 
accurate, and we treat them as interesting 
material for a short article, just as we treat 
all sorts of other interesting facts in other 
articles, short and long, 

First, then, as to Tit-Bits, the journal first 
published by the firm. The first number 
appeared on October 22nd, 1881, and from 
chat date to the 
end of June, 1897 
[the last numberin- 
eluded being that 
for June 26th), the 
total of all copies 
numbers three 
hundred and forty- 
e:gh[ million five 
buud red and forty - 
four thou sand 
nnd twenty-six. It 
is easy to write the 
number down in 
figures t hus : 
348,344,026, but it 
is not altogether 
easy to realize what 
they mean. Pre- 
sently we shall give 
some illustrative 
formulae which will 
assist the reader. 
First, however, 
here is a diagram 
consisting of two 
squares, one laid 
over the other 
(Fig. 1). The small, 
w hite, uppermost 
square in the 

bottom corner represents the sale of the first 
number of Tit-Bits, which was 12,000; the 
large tinted square represents, to accurate pro- 
portion, the sale of the Easter number of this 
year, which was 671,000 — the highest figures 
then reached for any single week. The 
diagram gives at a glance an idea of the vast 
increase fifteen years have seen. Messrs. 
\Y. H, Smith and Sons, the great bookstall 
firm, returned the parcels of the first number 
unopened. At the present time they take 
135,000 copies each week, and make no 
audible complaint of the trouble of opening 
the parcels. 

Mm to ojnie to our 348 millions odd of 
aggregate sale. Of this number of copies, 
136,143,367 were of 16 pages each^ and 
212,400,659 were of 20 pages, and the 
calculations to follow have allowed in every 
case for these variations, as also for the 
presence or absence of the familiar green 
cover, which was not added till No. 
240, First, then, the pennies paid for 
Tit-Bits from the beginning if laid edge to 
edge in a straight line, would extend from 

Fig. 1- —Diagram showing the gjowth 

3y^.Q05TCr MMivFPsiT 




*.— Fifty Moht 

Monument!* BLanc, 

Sixteen Columns of Tit-Bits, each twenty miles high* 

London to the North Pole, back again to 
London, and back once more half way to 
the Pole again, and thirty miles over. But 
an illustration appealing more directly to the 
eye is given in Fig. 2. The very little 
column at the extreme left of the diagram 
represents fifty times the height of the 
Monument on Fish Street Hill — we may 
consider it, indeed, as fifty Monuments set 
endwise. Next, to the right of that, stands 
a mountain ; it is Mont Blanc, the highest 
mountain in Europe, and though in outline 
it is not an exact representation of the 
original, its height is accurately proportioned 
to the rest of the diagram. To the right of 
this again we come upon .sixteen tall columns. 
Each of these is twenty miles high, and the 
whole represents sixteen piles of copies of 
Tit-Bits^ one flat on another, being the entire 
issue of ^48,544,026. Now one begins to 
get a faint idea of what all those millions 
actually mean. Of course, the proportions 
in this diagram are entirely in height ; the 
columns, both of Tit-Bits and of Monuments, 
are wider in regard to the height than they 
should be; but on this very small scale they 
would be quite invisible lines if they were 
made of relative measurements, 

If some industrious and generous person 
were to collect all these copies and start with 
them on a tour of Europe, he might go over 
every country — Russia, Germany, Austria, 
Italy, Turkey, Greece, France, Spain, Portu- 
gal, England, and all the rest— giving a copy 

Digitized by to 

to every living man, woman, 
and child as he went ; and 
when he had finished his 
tour (imagination staggers at 
a guess at how long it would 
take him) he would bring 
home a good many more than 
eighteen million copies for 
himself, out of which he might 
make a pile of 532 Monu- 
ments high. 

But there are more big 
figures, and some even bigger 
than these. Suppose we take 
a pair of scissors and attack 
all these copies of Tit-Bits^ 
cutting off separately each 
Jine of letterpress. Then let 
us join the ends of these to- 
gether, making an immensely 
long strip of paper, containing 
one immensely long line of 
printing, with no white-margin 
paper left between. How 
long would this line be? — 
Seventy - three million twenty - six thou- 
sand two hundred and sixteen miles and 
a half. Stretch this out at length into 
space, and build a railway line along it ; 
then start an express train, going at 60 
miles an hour, along this line. How long 
would this train take — never stopping nor 
slackening— to get to the end of the line and 
fall over into immensity ? — Very nearly one 
hundred and thirty-nine years. 

But now let us take our seventy-three 
million-mile strip and count, not the words, 
but the letters it contains. They amount to 
61,692,547^699,200, which, expressed in 
w*ords, is sixty-one thousand six hundred and 
ninety- two billion five hundred and forty- 
seven million six hundred and ninety-nine 
thousand two hundred, It looks immense, 
but it is far bigger than it looks. We will 
test this. We will divide our strip into con- 
venient lengths for handling. Let us pass these 
lengths one after another through ten chaff- 
cutters, all working together by steam (Fig. 3), 
The chaff-cutters cut off each a letter at a 
time from the slips (disregarding punctuation), 
and each cuts off 200 letters a minute, so that 
all together cut off 2,000 letters in that time. 
How long will these U:n chaff cutters, cutting 
incessantly day and night, take to cut off 
all the separate letters? Make a guess 
before you read the next sentence. They 
will take nearly fifty -eight thousand six 
hundred and eighty-seven years ! And this 
at the rate of considerably more than one 




3.— Row of icrt chaff-cutters,, each cut Ling off 200 leittn; a minute. 

thousand and fifty millions a year! But 
imagine our chaff-cutters multiplied by ten, 
and that the whole hundred started to work 
at the English Bible date or the creation of 
the world ; suppose that they all worked 
incessantly from that day to this at the same 
rate of speed : then they would only have 
come to the conclusion of their task about 
thirty-two years ago. 

We will now imigine our 34S million odd 
copies reconstituted again. We take them 
as they appear on the newsagent's stall, 
wired and folded, and we lay them in a long 
line, the bottom edge of one touching the 
top edge of its neighbour. We carry this 
line hvm round the world at its extreme cir- 
cumference, twne round" the moon, at the 
extreme circumference of that luminary, and 
then we find that we have 5,190 miles of the 
line still left to dangle in space. Fig. 4 
exhibits this feat, and shows the proportion 
of the length left over to the diameters of 
the earth and the moox 

Gather up all our papers again and try one 
more Tit- Bits ex 
perimenL This time 
we take out all the 
wires and separate 
each copy into 
sheets. It will be 
seen, in the paper 
as it is now, with 
twenty pages, that 
there are five of 
these, each carry- 
ing four pages, two 
above and two 
below, and the 
green cover makes 
a sixth. When the 
paper consisted of 
only sixteen pages 
there were only four 
white sheets and 

the cover, and in the early period there 
was no cover. Now, take all these sheets, 
green and white, and join them end to 
end, making an immense band. That band 
will be 581,853 miles long. We pass it 
round the earth, carry it right away to the 
moon, round the moon and back again, 
precisely in the manner of a bicycle chain 
round the cog-wheels. In Fig, 5 we show 
this; hut the diagram is broken in the middle, 
and a great piece taken out, because, 
otherwise, it could never have been got 
on the page. This will be understood when 
it is remembered that the distance between 
the earth and the moon is thirty times the 
earth's diameter, So we show but the two 
ends of our little arrangement But this is 
not all. After the circuit has been completed 
there still remains a piece of our band — just 
a trifle of eighty-two or eighty-five thousand 
miles or so — according to the place in the 
moon's orbit where you may make the 
measurement. With this we may do as we 
please— wrap it three times round the earth 

Fig. 4.— Copies of Tii-Biti in line* twice round ih< ■.-.* ifi, . •*•. [-.-» ruuad the moon, «iih 

'^^■jTv^fffDF MICHIGAN 





Fig, 5. — Immense chain of Tit^Bits pages passing round the carih antl ihc moon. 

at the equator perhaps, and leave ten thousand 
miles or so dangling in the breeze. 

There are other Tit- Bits figures that may 
be mentioned briefly, since space is short. 
One hundred and forty one million pieces of 
type have been set for it, exclusive of all 
punctuation-marks, which would make a good 
few millions more. Three hundred and twelve 
tons 1 weight of printers' ink has been used. 
The paper used would cover 73,468 acres, A 
sum of more than ^£26,000 has been given 
away in prizes and insurance money to the 
readers of the paper. People who read (in 
sensational stories) of somebody picking 
up a cash-box containing such a sum in 
gold and bolting off with it may be in- 
terested to know that ^26,000 in sovereigns 
weighs 4<nrt iolb, avoirdupois — a handsome 
weight of metal to trot about with. Put it in 
a box — indeed, a box weighing but 4IL — 
and the parcel will 
weigh level with 
three men of 1 ist, 
or 1541b., each 
(Fig. 6). 

Suppose one 
started to count all 
the copies of Tit- 
Bits sold, and 
could count 100 a 
minute, keeping it 
up without a mo- 
ment's cessation 
for twelve hours a 
day, we should 
finish the task in 
thirteen years three 

months and a few odd days. If a vast 
packing-case were constructed, capable of 
holding all these copies, that case might serve 
as a barrack for 2,217 soldiers, allowing the 
regulation amount of space, which is 600 
cubic feet for each man. 

Now we turn to The Strand Magazine, 
It must be remembered this magazine dates 
brxk only six years and a half — to the 
beginning of i8cji t in bet,— and it has but 
twelve issues a year. Nevertheless the total 
number sold up to and including our June 
number of this year is very little short of 
twenty-six millions, the precise numbers being 
25,929,947. Let us pile these copies into 
one exceedingly tall column, and then cast 
about for something to compare the pile with* 
Monuments are useless, there are not enough 
of them. Try mountains. First take Everest, 
the highest mountain in the world. It is 

scarce five miles 
and a half high, so 
that alone it is in- 
significant beside 
our great pile, So 
we stand Dap sang, 
almost as high as 
Everest, on top of 
it. On top of that 
v;e plant Mount 
t iod win- Austen, 
Ki n ch in j i nga, 
Dwahgiri, Nanda 
Devi, Trisul, Chu- 
mulari. Tagarma, 

Fig. c.— Weight of Tit-Bits 

sovereigns equals weight of three ruevi, 

by KjOUgtC 

hi^Limn. .■ :lim.1 Prize money m 

linal from 

Khan Tengri> and 
tzr\ or twelve extra 




Himalayas, all more than 20,000ft. high, London, The Art Bible, The Way of the Cross, 

each on top of the other. Then we reach etc, In the space at disposal it is quite im~ 

out to South America, and take up Aconcagua possible to treat of these separately, interesting 

in one hand and Mercedario in the as it might be ; so that we may say that of 

other, and add these, with Gualtieri and these other periodicals, most of quite recent 

Huascan, to the pile, which by this time is establishment, the sale has been well above 

getting quite lofty. We turn to Africa, and twenty-nine millions ; '"o be exact, 29,218,264. 

This orings the total sale of 

We turn to 
in like manner lift Kilimand- 
jaro, Kenja, and Ruwenzori : 
one on another they go to 
raise the pile. And so we 
proceed till we have selected 
and poised one above another 
the highest thirty -one moun- 
tains in the whole world. The 
column of mountains is by 
this time immense — appal- 
ling. But still it is over-topped 
by our pile of Strand Maga- 
zines, and we are beginning 
to get tired, With one more 
effort, however, we root up 
our old friend, Mont Blanc, 
and crown the pile with it, 
and then — the tops of the 
two columns are levelj and 
each column is a hundred 
and thirty miles high (Fig. 7), 
Mem. for those clever people 
who may take it into their 
heads to work out this little 
problem for themselves. It 
will not be enough to measure 
the thickness of a few copies 
of The Strand Magazine, 
and proceed from that. There 
have been immense issues of 
double numbers* which have 
been exactly allowed for ; 
and the number of advertise- 
ment pages has varied — a 
thing also carefully taken into 
account. There have been 
15,000 pictures printed in 
this Magazine, the originals 
of which would completely 
cover the walls of the Royal 

But there are other periodi- 
cal publications issued from 
the offices of the firm, such 
as Woman s Life, The Huh, 
The Penny Library of Famous 
Books, The Strand Musical 
Magazine, The Penny Aluskal Library^ 
British Boys, Navy and Army\ and others ; 
and there have been books issued in 
numbers, such as the Oracle Encydopcedia, 
Round the World l Round the Coast \ Round 

Vol, xjv,-*-6, 

Fig* 7-— The height uf a pile of all 
Strand Afagast'ne* i^ued lo June t 
1897, equals a pile of the highest thj 
two mountains in the world. 

all the periodical publications 
of the firm to the handsome 
total of 403,692,237, 

An accumulation of squares 
will help us to realize what 
these figures mean. Let us 
suppose there are sixteen 
hundred of these squares. 
Next, suppose that on each 
of these squares a pile of a 
quarter of a million copies 
of the periodical publications 
of George Newnes, Limited, 
was placed ■ when we had 
finished our last pile we 
should find ourselves still 
with nearly 3^ millions of 
copies for which no place 
remained. But let us alter 
the arrangement. Since the 
periodicals are of various 
thicknesses, let us make all 
the piles of the same height, 
regardless of numbers. Then 
we shall find that we have 
1,600 piles, each io)4 times 
the height of the Nelson Monu- 
ment in Trafalgar Square, 
from the top of the statue to 
the ground. And that is not 
all — we shall have a few left 
Enough, that is to say, to 
make one more pile as high 
as the Matterhorn— or more 
than ninety -two times the 
height of the Nelson Monu- 
ment Think over this, and 
think hard, and you will 
begin to perceive that 403 
millions odd is a rather large 
number. Fig. 8 shows all 
this literature packed in a 
parcel and put on a gigantic 
pair of scales. On the other 
side of the scales is a parcel 
neatly packed with 435,000 
men, each weighing list, or 154^3. The 
parcel of literature altogether outweighs 
the parcel of humanity. Indeed, it would 
be necessary to add 8f2 more men to make 
the scales hart§ritew&b I flFroin this it will be 





rig. &— Tbi whole output 01 our periodicals out we ignis 435,000 men 

easy for the arithmetical reader to calculate 
the weight of the periodicals in tons. And 
for these periodicals, all counted at pub- 
lished price, a sum of nearly two and a 
half millions of 
pounds has been 
paid by the public. 
And now for a 
last diagram — a 
diagram in some 
degree corre- 
sponding with Fig. 
2 % but on a smaller 
scale (Fig, 9). 
Here the pile of 
fifty Monuments 
has disappeared, 
since on this scale 
it would be in- 
visible. Its place 
(to the left) is 
taken by one of the 
tall, twenty- miles- 
high columns 
from Fig. 2. This 
column is still 
twenty miles high,, 
but is shown far 
smaller, and it is 
in trod u ced in 
order to adjust the 

proportions between the two 
diagrams. The small cone to 
its right is still Mont Blanc — 
now, on the reduced scale, look- 
ing very small indeed. Then, 
to the right, come eight columns. 
Each of these is, not twenty, 
but sixty-four miles high ; and 
the whole eight columns, with 
an aggregate height of 512 miles, 
are built each of a single pile of 
the New nes publications mixed 
— Tit-Bits, Strand Magazine, 
Musical Magazine^ 11 r oma n J s L ife } 
and all the rest, and the whole 
comprises all the copies of all 
the issues yet sold. And if this diagram, with 
that of the squares and that of the scales, 
can give no reader a clearer conception than 
he before possessed of the meaning of such 

a row of figures 
as 403,692,237, 
and of its size and 
weight when ex- 
pressed in period! 
cal literature — 
then probably 
nothing can ; ex- 
cept, perhaps, 
being compelled 
to count the 

It may, perhaps, 
be of some further 
interest to say that 
since the forma- 
tion of the busi- 
ness into a limited 
liability company 
in the middle of 
1 891, the accounts 
for ordinary post- 
age amount to the 
equivalent of two 
million four hun- 
dred thousand 
penny stamps. 

9u— A pile Mont 

from rig. 2. Blanc 

Eight pilr.-si + each sixty-tour miles bigbj 
all our publications* 

by Google 

Original from 

By the Mess Fire. 

By "The Professor," 

COLD July evening in the 
Matoppa Mountains, Dark- 
ness had at last settled down 
over the valley, and the lads 
were all at rest or preparing 
for the attack that was ordered 
for daylight on the morrow. 

Happy in the consciousness that they at 
any rate need not satisfy their inward 
cravings by the prevailing practice in Colonel 
Plumer's column, namely, tightening their 
belts, one little group took out their pipes, 
and having finally managed to rake up the 
constituents or a few whiffs of smoke apiece 
from pocket corners, and from one real 
capitalist, who owned half a packet of 
cigarettes and nobly tore off the jxipers and 
threw his all into the common stock, settled 
down in various attitudes, more remark ahle 
perhaps for ease than elegance, round their 
fire whiehj replenished, shot, as the flames 
rose and fell, flickering beams of yellow light 
round the circle, lending comeliness to faces 
unfamiliar with soap and water and showing 
six days* immunity from razor 

Tiffin was there, once the best shot in the 
B.B,P., who never failed his friend and com- 
rade in the hour of danger, and Smith, and, 
last, Tom Yeatley of the old " A ? ' Troop, 
famed for hard drinkers, swearers, and fighters 
wherever the uniform and brown silk pug- 
garee had been known* 

Out through the still night, during an 
occasional lull in the chat round tiie fire, as 
each man lazily surmised whether or no he'd 
he sound in skin at that hour on the following 
night, the distant cry of the Cossack posts 
doing their solitary and dangerous duty a 
quarter of a mile from either flank of the 
laager came softly down the night. 

We had been discussing the Jameson 
Expedition, when, in a quiet moment, 
Yeatley said : * - 1 never told you how that 
business of cutting the wires came off, did I?" 

None of us had heard, and we said so, 

11 Then," says he, " it s an old yarn now, 
and I suppose will hurt no one, so to pass an 
hour while the ter hacker lasts, I'll heave it off 
my chest. Hark ! what's that, a challenge?" 

We all listened, and sweet and distant 


' . Original from 



through the still air the tenor cry came float- 
ing down : " No. Three, A-H-'sW-e-U." " No. 
Four, A-l-l-'s W-e-1-1." 

" No, it's all right," says Tiffin ; " only the 
posts passing the word," and Yeatley went 

" Most of you remember how unsettled we 
were last December, with the yarns of what 
was intended by Jameson's camp at Pitsani, 
the recruiting that was going on, an' the 
proposed disbanding of the old B.B.P., and 
handing over all that would go to the 
Chartered Company. You, Smith, and 
Tiffin were in * A ' Troop at the time, and 
we often spoke of the rumours of expeditions 
against Linchwe at Mochudi, and other ratty 
ideas of what the force was going to do. 
How well the secret was kept at Mafeking ! " 

" Yes," said Smith ; " nothing of those 
stores that Dr. VVoolf built along the road to 
the Rand could pass the Border without my 
signature. I was on the Customs at the 
time, and wondered what the dickens Woolf 
could be putting up stores for, and only 
importing rations and forage to stock them 

" Well," continued Yeatley, " I was down at 
my little place on the Molopo River at Mafe- 
king, on Sunday, the 29th of December, when 
the * telegraph orderly' came down at a gallop, 
and said the Colonel wanted me at once. 
Up I went, thinking to myself, * What the 
blazes have I been doing now ? ' and expect- 
ing to get a choking off over something or 
the other. You bet I was surprised when 
he asked : ' Can we depend on you to keep 
your mouth shut, Corporal Yeatley?' I 
stood to attention, and says : 4 I believe 
so, sir.' 

" * Well/ says he, * hold yourself in readi- 
ness to proceed across the Border to-night 
with Mr. Welsh. I want you to guide him 
to the telegraph line between Zeerust and 
Rustenberg, and from there to the line to 
Lichtenberg ; and keep your eye lifting that 
the Dutchmen don't catch you, or you'll get 
shot.' This sounded pretty thick, so I 
asked : — 

" 'Is there any extra pay sticking out, sir?' 

" * Yes,' says he, ' I think I can promise 
you a hundred pounds if all goes well, and 
you may keep your horse and saddlery.' I 
needn't tell you, boys, that the horse and 
saddle was all I got. The ' hundred of the 
very best ' gets further out of sight every day. 

" ' You won't need to take arms/ he said, 
4 and Mr. Welsh will tell you anything more 
after you start.' 

" Well, I thought all this sounded pretty 

queer, but saluted and left the orderly-room, 
went home, and overhauled my saddlery ready 
for a start. I was too excited to sleep that 
afternoon, and about seven saddled up my 
mare and Lieutenant Welsh's horse, and rode 
up to the officers' quarters to wait for him. I 
was in uniform, and wore the broad-brimmed 
hat and white puggaree which the Colonel 
made ' A ' Troop take to when ' F ' and 4 K ' 
Troops came down from Macloutsie to 

" After a while Welsh comes out, and 
says, * Will you have a liquor, corporal ? ' 

" I had a whisky and we mounted, and 
riding round the outskirts of the town, struck 
out to hit the Transvaal road. This was at 
half-past seven ; at nine that night, as some 
of you know, the B.B.P. marched out of 
camp and never entered it again. 

"Well, we galloped off along the road 
through the commonage, our horses' hoofs 
raising clouds of dust that hung in the still 
air behind us and stretched back to the faint 
distance, glimmering white in the moonlight. 
It was just such a night as this, cool and 
pleasant, that the horses tossed their heads 
and reefed as they raced along, the polished 
bits flashing bright in the light After we 
passed McMillan's farm, the white buildings 
showing clearly against a background of river 
timber, we pulled up to a walk, as there was a 
long ride sticking out, seventy miles at least, 
and Lieutenant Welsh says : 4 Have you 
been told what we are to do ? ' ' No, sir/ 
says I. 'Then I'll tell you. We have to 
destroy the wire between Zeerust and 
Rustenberg in half-a-dozen places, then 
strike across country to the Lichtenberg line 
and treat it the same way, and, if we can, 
get back across the Border into Bechuanaland 
with our skins whole ; in the meantime, 
the wires between Mafeking and Maribogo 
and Mafeking and Pitsani will be cut, and 
the B.B.P. and M.M.P. having met at Mal- 
mani, will force a march on Johannesburg, 
where the Uitlanders have risen, and without 
help from us will be blown to pieces, women 
and all' 

11 ' Hooray/ says I, and on we galloped 

" At Cowan's farm, where, over a hundred 
miles from where he was wounded, Captain 
Coventry's horse, Silver Tail, was found 
straying, bloodstained saddle still on its back, 
two days after the Battle of Doornkop, we 
pulled up to give the nags another breath. 
You remember Silver Tail, Smith, don't 
you ? " 

"Rather,0rigteaMrprtU rode her in the 




races a few weeks before the march came off. 
She belonged to Cowan then, a;id a rougher 
brute I nevtr saw," 

1,1 Well," continued Yeatley, "after leaving 
Cowan's a few miles behind, we crossed the 
Border and were on Transvaal ground, and 
shortly afterwards, riding mighty careful, we 
passed the two mud huts sheltering the 
detachment of Transvaal Police stationed 
on the road passing the frontier. We need 
not have been so particular, as a few hours 
later the B.B.P., 150 strong, with Maxims, 
seven - pounders, and ammunition carts, 
clattered over the stony road, past 
the very doors of the police-quarters, and 
never even awakened the watchful sen- 
tinels. Another seven miles, and we 
rode slowly through Malmani ; the inhabi- 
tants had apparently all gone to rest^ and 
only a few lights shone in uncurtained 
windows here and there along the solitary 
street. The majority of the buildings were 
of galvanized iron, and looked blue and cold 
in the moonlight We forded the river at the 
drift above Stink-hom-boom farm, passed the 
cemetery, amongst whose trees the rising 
night wind was sighing in a spooky sort of 
way, and struck off along the road to Zeerust. 

** We had come about twenty miles, and 

Welsh j who was a long, thin, miserable slab 
of humanity, says: "Have we much further 
to go ? ' The poor devil was weak ; he had 
been in command of a party out in the low 
country, and had been down with fever, 
never properly getting over it, and wasn't 
fitted for such work as we had to do that 
night. I told him we had to ride another 
twenty miles before we commenced work, 
and then another ten across country to the 
Lichtenberg line, ending up with twenty 
more before we should be safe across the 
Border again, adding for his comfort that we 
should certainly be shot like jackals if the 
Boers caught us and had the least idea of 
what was up. He didn't seem very happy 
on it, and kept quiet for a few miles, 

"A couple of miles from Zeerust we saw 
lights on Du Toit's farm, Wonuer Hoek, 
glimmering across the bare veld- I was sur- 
prised to see the people were still up — 
Dutchmen, as a rule, make for bed when it 
gets dark. 

"'Could you do with a drink of coffee, 
sir ? ' I says, 

" * By Jove, yes/ he answered. 

"So we went across the spruit to the farm* 
where I was better known than liked by any- 
one but the girl, Susie du Toit. The father, 




4 6 


an old Boer, who had done his share at 
Bronkhurst Spruit in the old war, hated 
anything that wore a British uniform ; nnd 
the sons I had had a row with over a cattle 
deal, and booted all round the Market 
Square in Mafeking— so they did not care 
much far me either, 

" However, there were two of us, so the 
men were very civil, and Susie gave us some 
coffee, while the horses chewed at a bundle 
of forage. 

"The crowd 
was just going to 
bed, and being 
sort of interested 
in the girl, I took 
h*r aside whilst 
Welsh swopped 
broken English 
with the men, 
told her there was 
bound to be 
trouble in the 
Transvaal before 
long, and asked 
her to come into 
with me an J I 
would come back 
for her in the 
early morning, if 
she would keep 
awake and have 
her horse handy. 

fi< Looking up, I 
caught one of her 
brothers eyeing 
her and listening 
to what we said, 
so changed the 
subject. When 
the horses had 
finished and we'd 
paid for the for- 
age, we started on 
again, and in a 
short time crossed 
the Marico River 
and rode through 

4 * I noticed a saddle-horse tied up to the 
horse-rail outside the hotel, and vaguely 
wondered who was about at that hour and 
what he was after. I found out afterwards, 
and in a way that wouldn't ha' been pleasant 
if it had come off. 

"leaving Zeerust behind, we rode along 
the Rustenberg road about four miles, then 
struck off across the veld to hit the telegraph 

line, which just here was wide of the road. 

We soon found a post, and I said to Welsh* 

1 Here you are, sir; now your job commences.' 

He got off his horse and started in to climb 

the pole, whilst I stood below holding the 

reins. ' It's no go/ he said, after getting 

about half-way up and slipping down several 

times, * I'm too weak ; that beastly fever has 

taken it all out of me. You'll have to do it' 

"I'm not much in the climbing way, so I 

said 1 had no orders 

from the Colonel about 

cutting the wire, but 

was only told to guide 

him to the line and 

he'd do the rest. 

"Welsh said he 
couldn*t help it, and 
I should have to take 
my orders from him ; 
so I studied a bit, 
and then, seeing he 
in his tired state 
would only be a burden 
to me, said : 'All 
right, sir, I'll do 
it ; but you are 
done it p t and 
must make the 
best of your w*ay 
back to Malmnni 
and wait for the 
column to come 
through, or con- 
tinue along the 
road and get back 
across the Border.' 
What he did I 
don't know, for I 
never saw or heard 
of him again, 
until a few days 
ago I came across 
him in Colonel 
Plumer's MR.F. 

"Well, after he 
left I took the wi re- 
cutters and strug- 
gled up the pole. 
Snip ! and with 
a loud ringing sort of hiss the wire fell to the 
ground, the pole bending under me as all the 
strain came on the sound side. Snip ! again, 
and the pole sprang back to the perpen- 
dicular, nearly flipping me away like a blob 
of clay from a sling-stick, I smashed the 
china insulator and slid down to the ground, 
walked along the wire T and, cutting it again as 
near the next pole as I could reach, tied one 




end to my saddle, and mounting, rode off 
into the veld a bit, towing the span of wire 
after me, dropped it where it would not be 
found in time to be of use for repairs, and 
returned to tackle the line again further on. 
In repeating this performance for the third 
time, the rotten cast-steel nippers broke in 
my hand and fell to the ground. 

" Here was a mess ! How on earth was I 
to finish the work ? I cursed those con- 
founded nippers for a solid five minutes ; 
but that wouldn't mend 'em. Thinking of 
what to do, 1 remembered passing some 
transport waggons outspanned beside the 
road about a mile back. Where there's 
waggons there's an axe, and I saw a way out 
of the trouble. Mounting again, I lit out 
for the outspan ; there they still were 
apparently outspanned till 'twas time to start 
the early morning trek. No dog had barked 
when first I passed them, so it was safe to 
ride right up amongst the oxen lying and 
standing along the trek-to ws. When my 
horse was so mixed up with the spans that 
we couldn't very well be seen, I stopped, 
and was carefully dismounting to search for 
the axe, when suddenly the transport-rider's 
horse, which was tied up to the tail of the 
nearest waggon, neighed ! I, close up, 
jumped clear of my skin, but fortunately the 
mare did not answer. 

14 Keeping still for a moment to see no 
one stirred, I moved cautiously up to the 
waggon tent against which the axe is usually 
hung. No axe there. Then I tried against 
the front of the waggon-box, getting a poke 
in the ribs from a pole-ox's horn as I did so. 
Good luck ! there it was, its polished head 
glinting back the moon-rays. In half a 
second I had it, remounted, and was riding 
off when a voice sounded from underneath 
the tent, ' Allamachtig, ook iss dar ? ' c Als 
recht, mynheer,' I yelled, and galloped away. 
It must have been about one o'clock when 
I found a fresh spot on the line, and a 
reasonably thin wooden pole to cut down. 
But, great Scot ! the row that axe made 
chopping on the pole and shaking the wires 
up above was something cruel, and I 
expected to be rushed by every blessed 
Dutchman for miles round. At last I got 
bim down, cut a span of wire out, and carted 
it off. 

" I reckoned I'd done about enough for 
glory to that line, and was just starting away 
over the veid south-west to cut the Lichten- 
berg line, when I heard the clatter of hoofs 
on gravel, and looking along the skyline saw 
some moving forms just topping the ridge 

between me and the Zeerust road. That 
was quite good enough for me ; I didn't stop 
to investigate, but sent the spurs home, and 
my old nag, which had had a good spell 
and pick at the grass while I was working, 
spluttered off down the hill, sending the 
stones Hying, to the dark shadow at its foot, 
where a deep spruit ran along on its course 
to the Marico River. How we ever got 
down that hill in the dark over the rocks and 
gullies I don't know ; the wind fairly whistled 
in my ears as we pelted along. We stopped 
in the donga, and I looked back for the 
pursuers. They were lost, however ; no doubt 
they were carefully picking their way down 
the krantz. 

11 Anyhow, they had seen what I was up to, 
and it was high time to trek out of that, so I 
set the mare going, and plugged away through 
the bush and rocks along the spruit towards 
the Lichtenberg line, which I judged was 
about ten miles away to the south-west. 
After about a mile along the creek we left the 
bush and struck out across the bare, high 

"On the top of the watershed we stopped 
and listened for signs of pursuit, but there 
was no sound but the rustle of the wind in 
the long, dry grass, and the distant yapping 
snarls of a jackal, coming faintly down the 
cool breeze. 

" Away we galloped over the veld ; the 
country all around, bright lit by the summer 
moon, reflected again from the white grass 
and quartz pebbles. Now and then there'd 
be a scuffie and a splutter as a startled duiker 
or stembuck sprang from its lair, and lit out 
for its natural, scared by being nearly run 
over, and once the old mare shied half-way 
across the Transvaal as a great, grey, ghostly 
secretary-bird rose from where he had been 
lying, and after a few preliminary strides with 
his derned long legs, and swooshes of his 
wings, rose and flapped off through the 

" I saw a couple of farms, and kept clear 
and wide of them to avoid disturbing the 
dogs, and before half- past two reached 
the wire and commenced operations. 

" The posts here were all galvanized iron, 
and I had to climb up, and having smashed the 
insulator, endeavour to cut the wire against 
the top of the post with my axe. 

"To understand how things happened, I 
must tell you that just where I had hit the wire, 
there was a long tongue of bush came down 
from a kopje on the east towards Lichtenberg, 
and towards Zeerust the ground ran steeply 
away to a thick patch of thorn bush; below that 

4 8 


again ran n deep kloof full of camel thorn 
tiv<s which ruruinucd up the far side, and 
rati patchy and thin over the veld away in 
thr direction of Zeerust. 

11 Well, I had made a jab or two at the wire 
with my axe, but it wasn't all velvet, I can tell 

i'ou t hanging on to a thin iron pole by my eye- 
ids* so to sfieak, and chopping away with a 
heavy axe that wouldn't hit die darned wire 
straight, but slipped away to oik* m<U or the 
other at every blow, jolly nearly taking me 
with it livery hit rang off along the line, 
making enough row to raise the dead. 

the donga on the Zeerust side like one 

11 Hang I Bang ! the shots flew after me 
again, and passed with a vicious little whizz ; 
'tis a sound we don't think much of now, 
boys, but I didn't see any points about it 
that night, and bent low in the saddle as we 
raced into the bush. 

u I had just reached the timber and 
kidded myself I was safe again, when there 
was a yell in front, and three horses came 
shooting through the timber and pulled up 
across my track, Lord, how I remember 


**At List one fell straight* and with a 
hiding clang the wire parted aini falling on 
rsihet side <4 the \\^l ivi*cd itself away 
through the £rass oui of sL;hE. 

M * Hunk \W lea! for tVat loC 1 thinks 
and &OFp** % $ l - c Axe ' **^ ^ *- e ground : 
that is* 1 si*d half -m jit but dropped the 
iv*L fo* 1 h*&£i\ niched Kvthold wren 
hirg * t\irg : tw^ >ho:s rr\; out row the 

ibe iz\™ :v^ n^iiivz " ^:ur a£a::\ avd 

<H\,i ' ii i t» t| »Vw*> i, m\ »%j» ■■..-■!.* %"*. f-fci •"*-.* 

eeluxs off sue !ejv::s it^\c^:^ Sosa h>« s^ 

- Xh Ivrse w.i* :^x: U* a :w rvu: ;»en:v 
vrros a**u 1 c.v.X cvju:'a rr^i^ber hrw 
I d a :l : u: 1 ii* *r ;^e stt44*e * '+*- *^jf * v 

that sight ! There was one white horses and 
as the beggars pulled up and levelled their 
rifles* I saw the lroonli^ht glint on the 
barrels and thought I was a gone cu*s. 

"In that moment I mu^t ha* gone clean, 
lumpin* mad, for with a yell I swl^ ih* a\e 
round my head and raced straight at Vm. 
Two fired— missed — and cleared for CCTtT 
to rxlead. The other man ssooi a^d ;re 
l^ht ^li^ied and granted up and d *n h:s 
birrxl as he fallowed my heme's^r.^ 
I Ksscssbef thinking ir-'i it *Oi all cvrr 
ir, a second* ' He* siakzr:^ dc^d surtj ar,i j; 

s w Jt a warrst bre4:i c*£r rr.y ch^ri. A* re 
--^d. I avoc lie, aie-rar.lle; and ii* :s 

?-x<L I aw me. aie-rar.^e; an: 





fast that I could see no effect ; but turning 
immediately in the saddle, a riderless horse 
trotting into the bush, and a dark, shapeless, 
motionless heap in the centre of the moonlit 
patch amid the timber, showed the first 
blow of the Jameson Raid was struck. A 
moment more, and the thickening bush hid 
us from sight, and loud, hoarse shouts of 
the baffled Boers proclaimed they were sold 
again by the ' Verdomde rooinek.' 

" I was fairly drunk with excitement, and 
felt inclined to turn again and have another 
dash through them for sport. 

" At the bottom of the hill, all torn by thorns 
and bleeding at the neck where I had been 
either bullet-grazed or ripped by the bush, I 
stopped and listened. 

44 Up on the krantz the Dutchmen were 
following, shouting and yelling, and their 
calls, mingled with the rattling of the stones 
as they scuffled down the hill, showed they 
were following the right line. I considered 
a bit and decided, instead of hitting straight 
for the Border, which was not far away, to 
go back to Susie's place and pick her up 
to take her for safety to Bechuanaland. 
I thought the Boers must know what is 
up, and there'd be a battle there in the 
Marico for a start, so she'd be better away ; 
and besides, my pursuers would probably 
make straight for the Border, and, being 
fresher mounted than me, would stand a show 
of catching up on the open country that lay 
between this patch of bush and English 
ground. It was no good hoping to do more 
to the wire, as my axe was gone for good, 
and altogether things hereabouts was getting 
a bit too thick ; so we trotted on, taking 
advantage of the cover until I couldn't hear 
voices any more, then away we galloped 
across the veld, stopping and listening now 
and agen for sounds. 

44 We passed one farm a few hundred yards 
off— Coetzee's, it was. Lights were dodging 
about and men's voices calling, so I judged 
they had either heard the shooting or old 
4 Oom Paul ' had wind of what was coming, 
and had called out the commandos. How- 
ever, they didn't see or hear me, and about 
four in the morning I was outside Susie's 
window, and she was climbing out to me. 
We went carefully to the kraal where the 
horses were ; Susie's saddle was on the wall, 
and in five minutes she was mounted and 
ready. Susie, whose mother was English, or, 
at any rate, Colonial, told me they were all 
asleep in the house, and would not miss her 
till daylight. I jumped up, and away we 
went. I had kept clear of Zeerust coming 

Vo..* V .-7 

to the farm, and had now only to fear Mai- 
mani and the police of the Border. 

44 The mare was still going well, and I 
hoped to get her home all right. She was 
a splendid bit of stuff. It was a grand 
gallop. I was happy as Larry, in high spirits, 
and felt fit for all the Dutchmen in the 

44 We eased up at Malmani Cemetery, and, 
seeing lights flying round in the tow r n below, 
left it wide on the right, swimming the 
Malmani River about Wenthuigel farm ; this 
is how we missed the B.B.P. column, which 
had reached Malmani, and were waiting 
there for Jameson and the M.M.P. I didn't 
know for certain that they had yet marched, 
and wouldn't go through the town on spec, 
and pVaps fetch up against a Boer commando. 
Susie had lost her hat in the gallop, so I gave 
her my police-hat, with the broad brim 
looped up, and white puggaree, tying a 
handkerchief round my own head. 

44 The moon had now gone down, and at 
Bultfontein there was only a pale glimmer 
from the stars ; daylight would be along in 
half an hour, but we were nearly safe. I 
called to Susie, 4 It won't be good enough to 
go through the police at the Border; they 
will be waiting, and may possibly have seen 
something of the B.B.P., if they've started. 
We had better go down through this bush, 
across the Border at the back of Fricke 
Botha's place, and get to Cowan's farm, 
where we'll be able to get some coffee, and 
then take it easy into Mafeking.' 4 Very 
well,' she said, and we turned off the road. 

44 Now, it just happened, when half an hour 
later we reached the Border, we fell plump on 
top of a crowd of Boers coming up from Rooi 
Grond. They had been commandeered 
early in the night, and were patrolling the 

44 Against the coming daylight in the east 
we must have showed big, and they evidently 
recognised my police-hat on Susie, for there 
was a yell, and they hopped off their horses 
and started in firing away like mad. Lord, 
how those shots whizzed past us. 4 Quick, 
separate ! ' says Susie ; 4 you take to the river 
and I'll break into the hills again. None of 
them can touch my horse. Good luck ! '— 
and she was off at a pace my mare, pretty well 
knocked up by the night's work, couldn't ha' 
looked at. Bang ! Bang ! Whizz ! I cleared 
to the left, where, about half a mile away, 
the Molopo ran on its course to Mafeking, 
seven miles away. As soon as we parted 
the firing was stopped, and I heard a shout. 

44 Before crossing the Border I had to 







dodge two more parties, galloping up 
to see what all the firing was about, but 
got off without being seen, reached the 
river j crossed the Border, and got safely 
into Mafckmg. 

w I kept my teeth shut, and after Jameson 
and all our chaps were taken, I thought it 
would be healthy to change my scenery for a 
while, as I was very well known across the 
Border, and didn't want to be asked to 
explain my reason for cutting about the 
Marico so free that night ; so I came up to 
Matabeleland, joined the M.M.P., and here 
we are, 

" When this war's over I'm going to ask the 
Colonel or somebody for that hundred quid 
{I reckon I earned it), and go back and marry 
Susie, I haven't heard a word from her 
since, though I wrote several times, but 
through this war the mails are always going 
wrong, and her letter must have gone astray. 
She must have got home all right. She had 
a fresh horse, knew the veld, and rides as 
well as I can. She's all right. 

"And now, chaps, my yarn is done and 
we had better turn in. There'll be a fight in 
the morning, and 1 want to dream about 

Susie and forget Smith's baking, and Tuli- 
bulli beef. Good-night, all." 

Half an hour afterwards Tiffin leaned over 
on Smith's blanket and whispered, "Howll 
poor Tom feel when he hears how Susie du 
Toit paid with her life for wearing one of our 
hats, and lies in a nameless grave where she 
fell shot through the heart? This yarn 
explains all. I never understood how the 
Boer patrol had killed one of their own 
women ; but with a police-hat on, and in the 
faint light, who could tell she was not a man ? 
I'm not going to tell him, anyhow, and all 
the other chaps are strangers to Mafekiiig and 
don't know the story, Poor old Tom ! 

Tom Yea t ley never knew, for when next 
day, after a stubborn and bloody resistance 
from Babijaan's Impi lurking in caves and 
crevices, we climbed the mountain and stood 
victors on its summit, eight puffs of blue 
smoke rose lazily in the quivering sun- 
scorched air, as the same reports that 
heralded swift death to his sweetheart now 
paid the last sad honour to her soldier's grave. 

by Google 

Original from 

Portraits of Celebrities at Different Times of their Lives. 


AijE ii. [Phvfavrnph, 

Born 1845. 
HE Reverent 
*M Canon EYTON, 


Rector of St. ^^a^- 
^£UsB>* garefs and Cation 

of Westminster 
since 1895, is the second son 
of the Rev- R. W. Eyton, 
Rector of Ryton, and author 
of * £ Thc Antiquities of Shrop- 
shire." Canon Eyton was 
educated at Shrewsbury and 
Christ Church, Oxford, being 


From tt Pktito. by Mtwon k Co* 

ordained deacon 
and priest in 1870. 
He was Rector of 
Upper Chelsea in 
1 884- 1 88 5 and Pre- 
bendary of St, Paul's 
in 1885 Canon 
Eyton is a well- 
known and power- 
ful preacher, and the 
numerous theologi- 
cal works for which 
he is responsible 
have shown him to 
be an equally power- 
ful and convincing 

AfJK 41. 


Fran a] 





Fnm\ a i y kt>U*. ftp ] ac t 1 6. 


{Mrs. Normanik) 

HE reputation of Miss 
Henrietta Rae as a 
classical painter has 
been steadily grow- 
ing for the past seven 
or eight years. During that time 
much attention has been drawn 
to Iut lar^e and excellent canvases 
at the summer exhibitions of the 
Royal Academy, amont; which may 

as a student, worked at the British Museum, 
the Queen's Square School of Art (which 
she entered at the age of thirteen), and at 
the Royal Academy Schools, to which she 
was admitted in 1879, She also studied at 
Heather ley's, painting by gaslight from the 
living model. Such severe study naturally 
precluded her from all the ordinary enjoy- 
ments of social pleasures, a penalty which a 
woman who wishes to succeed as a painter 
must be prepared to pay. She was first repre- 
sented in the Academy in 1S81. The present 
year's picture, " Isabella and the Pot of Basil," 
is an admirable production. In Miss Rae's 
estimation her best work is tha "Ophelia" 
now the property of the Corporation of Liver- 
pool, Miss Rues other well-known pictures 

are " Doubts," 
exhibited in 1886, 
her first success ; 
" A polio and 
Daphne,' 1 1895, and 
*' S u m m e r, : ' b y 
which she was re pre* 
sented in last years 
Academy, Miss Rae 
is the wife of Mr. E. 
Normal id, the well- 
known artist ; they 
work together in 
their home at 

ACE fct 

J-Vi 1 mi 11 ffmt-t. *-ij 

Ft-am a timidity bit) ACE 22. [Ei^ett tYunwcinrf- 

be mentioned " Ophelia," " Psyche at the 
Throne of Venus/' " Eurydiee,' 1 (< Zephyr 
and Flora," and " La Cigale." Miss Rae, 



fr rpwi a PkutQ. hv\ 


iginal from 

[Winvtov & Gnm. 




L. ^. 


• \\\ ,. 

..ftj.tiLilin ll 

\ ii 




Born 1840. 

ATHAN MEYER, first Ix>rd 
Rothschild, whose family name is 
a household word in every country 
in the world, is the eldest son of 
Baron Lionel Nathan de Roth- 

Fnm * PMl &*] 

AGE 32. [Barrnnd*, Ltd. 

*J by L^iOOQl 

Mlffm ■ /Tkofo. bv) agb 4a 

( IT. * £1, Ztoinwv- 

schild. He was bom in I .ondun, and educated 
at King's College School, London, and Trinity 
College, Cambridge. He was elected as 
Liberal member for Aylesbury, 1865, and 
retained the seat until 1^85, when he was 
created a Peer. Lord Rothschild is the head 
of the London banking firm of N. M + Roth- 
schild and Sons. At Tring Park, and in his 
fine house in Piccadilly, Lord Rothschild has 
assembled a multitude of treasures of art, of 
which he is one of the most generous patrons. 
Perhaps one of the most coveted honours tn 

Front a /*Aof). b*) 

f RESENT l*A\. 

Itiarrattdt, Ltf, 

connection with this memorable year has fallen 
to Lord Rothschild, in his selection, by the 
Prince of Wales, as Honorary Treasurer to 
the Prince of Wales's Hospital Fund to com- 
memorate the Sixtieth Anniversary of the 
Queen's ^J na | from 




#W 111 

AGE I?, 

I Fhotopraph. 

Born 1871. 
HOMAS HAYWARD furnishes 
a proof of the hereditary faculty 
for the game of cricket, his father 
being Dan Hay ward, and his 
uncle T. Hay ward, both leading 
professionals in the sixties. The famous 
Surrey cricketer was born at Cambridge, and 
after exhibiting considerable ability in local 

matches for the Cambridge Y.M.C.A. and 
other teams, joined the Oval staffs and quali- 
fied by residence for Surrey. During the 
period of qualification he rendered good 
service for the Club and G round, and in 1893 
made his first appearance for his county of 
adoption in the home match v. Warwickshire, 
In 1894, against Somerset, his three-figure 
score was the chief factor towards Surrey's 
success, and in the return match with Kent 
he scored 142 in four hours and a quarter* 
It was a brilliant display, and enabled him to 
secure fourth place in the batting averages for 
the championship fixtures, and to occupy 
third position for "all matches." Hayward 

t'vmn rl t y tv>to. b]f\ JM^ESE^T PAW 

\ILW. Thomiu. 

Digitized by 

[ . I A ■ ' h f 1 ■ 1 tlttrlUf. 


was selected by Lord Havvke to form one of 
the South African team, and his brilliant 
batting was one of the features of the tour, 
while in several instances his bowling proved 
very destructive* Last year Hayward had 
the honour to represent England v. the 
Australians. He scored five centuries dur- 
ing tl.e season, his chief being 229 not out, 
against I Derbyshire, which is, up to the 
present his record score. He also captured 
ninety-one wickets for an average of sixteen, 
and scored 1,595 runs t with an average of 
thirty-four, thus proving that he is one of our 
leading all-round men at the summer game, 


Queer Competitions. 

By Framley Steelcroft. 

OWN in the 
but really little-known. East- 
end of London, they do not 
take their pleasures sadly, I 
hope to make this clear in the 
following pages. Now, com- 
petitions of curious sorts occupy a very 
prominent place among these pleasures ; and 
so, after a prolonged and heartrending 
struggle with rampant hilarity, our artist 
succeeded in obtaining a remarkably success- 
ful series of photographs, showing these 
interesting contests actually in progress* live 
central head-quarters of these competitions 
is known as ^Wonderland," Whiteehapel, and 
the presiding genius is Mr. J, Woolf, than 
whom no man knows better the "near East/ 8 
Mr. Woolf himself originates most of the 
contests, but occasionally he receives an idea 
from one of his patrons. Our first illustra- 
tion shows a basket-carrying contest, between 
porters from Spital fields Market The men 
commence with six baskets, run various 
heats, and then gradually increase the 
number until about seventeen baskets are 
swaying dangerously on the competitors' 

[Hhtstrated with Special Pk&fographs-l 

much-discussed, heads, and threatening their several admirers, 
who are probably half crazy with excitement. 
These things are taken seriously — how 
seriously, no one could realize who has not 
seen a contest or two drawn off. 

The moment Mr. Woolf announces on 
his playbills a new competition, entries begin 
to flow in, for the East-end contains cham- 
pions (more or less) in almost every conceiv- 
able and inconceivable branch of pastime 
and trade- The prizes include cups, purses 
of silver, medals, and various useful articles 
ranging from a lady's blouse to a barrel of 
beer. Competitors haven't much time for 
practice. It may be (as in the case of the 
basket-carrying contest) that their daily work 
is practice enough. Fair play is rigidly en- 
forced, and the official timekeeper, referee, 
judge, etc., are absolutely impartial. In the 
matter of the basket-carrying race 3 neatness 
is taken into consideration, as well as speed 
and number of baskets carried. Much* of 
course, depends upon the skilful stacking of 
the baskets. 

Trickery is only to be expected, and malice 
is not unknown* One competitor turned up 
for the basket-carrying rare fully 
equipped as a certain winner. 
The baskets (nineteen in num- 
ber) were already stacked on a 
barrow outside ; they were all 
glued together! Another man in 
the same race, feeling himself 
beaten in the last lap, and burn- 
ing with rage against a person in 
the audience who had persisted 
in taunting him, contrived to 
let fall eleven baskets on his 
tormentor's head. 

Nor are the ladies forgotten. 
The next picture shows a peram- 
bulator race between mothers, 
each mother bringing her own 
baby, and Mr. Woolf providing 
the perambulators The winner 
claims the baby-carriage 3 but I 
am bound to say that frequently 
it isn't worth much at the close 
of the race. Even the babies 
enter into the spirit of the thing, 
and shriek with delight at the 
rapid movement and the over- 
whelming antics of their mothers. 

I am assured that the organiza- 





tion of a contest of this sort between women 
is a thing of tremendous difficulty, The 
competitors art boiling over with excitement, 
more or less suppressed, There are many 
false starts Y to say nothing about recrimina- 
tions and utterly irrelevant accusations 
bandied about amongst the ladies. The 
race is fairly fast, and often furious. Astute 
women try to cut off corners, but only 
succeed in injuring both the bassinet and 
its innocent occupant. The losers have to 
be regaled, or, rather, appeased, with heavy 
refreshments, whilst the winner and her prize 
are smuggled quietly away, The stains quo 
(mti % however, is 
restored on the 
morrow, when the 
fierce excitement 
has subsided. 

To ignore the 
boys in these com- 
petitions would be 
to court disaster. 
The accompany- 
ing photo, shows 
a peculiar contest, 
the boys having to 
stand on their 
heads for three 
minutes. The 
first prize in this 
competition is 
magniloquently, if 
vaguely, described 
as u a purse ol 
silver" ; but it is 
safe to assume 

that the amount is not large. The purse of 
silver sometimes has a pleasing variation in 
the form of a pair of hob-nailed boots or a 
suit of clothes. 

In this contest regard is paid to age, 
weight, and height, which are kept pretty 
uniform among the competitors. The fathers 
and mothers attend mainly, it would appear, 
to deal out plaudits or imprecations accord- 
ing to the success or failure of their inverted 
progeny. The parents of the winner are 
proud of their boy- — just as parents of high 
degree would be on learning that their son 
had won a valuable scholarship. 







Another strange contest is depicted in 
the photo, here reproduced. Half-a-dozen 
typical East-end gentlemen are seen making 
frightful grimaces through as many horse- 
collars. The judge— an artist in diabolical 
leers — guards against undue haste in award- 
ing the prize, which is probably a silver 
watch. He calls for many demonstrations 
in the way of facial contortion, awarding 
marks after every " round." Just before the 

about to purchase 
a priceless work of 
art for the nation, 
Trade contests are 
extremely popular, 
particularly the 
butchers' contest, 
which is portrayed 
in our next photo- 
graph. Here we 
see three local 
c e 1 e b r i t i e s— 
champions all - 
competing for a 
complete set of 
butchers' imple- 

The knights enter the lists. Three whole 
sheep are prepared, and the man who turns 
his sheep into joints in the neatest manner 
and the shortest time wins the prize. Mr. 
Woolf acts as timekeeper, and one of the 
best-known master-butchers in A Id gate pre- 
sides in the dual capacity of judge and referee. 
The head is first cut off; the sheep is then 
cut down the middle and quickly turned 
into ten separate joints of mutton, five on 


final grin, the judge sums up, so to speak. 
He implores the men to brace themselves 
for a supreme effort, and the gallant fellows 
certainly respond nobly to the call. The 
judge is sometimes assisted by five or six 
competent experts, and this interesting body 
holds consultations and deliberations with 
all the gravity of a committee of artists 

Vol *iv.— s. 

each side. These are, of course, leg, loin, 
shoulder, neck, and breast. A little under 
three minutes is the record time, and a very 
wonderful performance it is. 

A singing match, such as is next depicted, 
reveals surprising talent for mimicry and 
comicality. This is a free and-easy gathering 
of matl^^VSr«.^T^F^Cth aril P ion sin K er is 




selected by general vote. In the centre is 
seen one of the cleverest amateur coster 
vocalists in London— one from whom Mr, 
Chevalier might obtain many hints — for it 
should be borne in mind that this is the 
genuine article photographed in his native 
place, and not the coster of the variety stage. 
Impresarios and agents would do well to 
attend these East-end singing contests, for 
there is much talent latent there. One or 
two of the men actually compose their own 
words and music; but the majority of the 
competitors sing the latest successes of the 
day. The little fellow seen on the right in 
the photo* is quite a local celebrity — a 
juvenile comedian of astonishing ability, 

and one that would delight the drawing- 
rooms of the West-end with his quaint 

But for right-down uproarious hilarity, give 
me the shaving match. The one represented 
in our photo, may be taken as typical of alL 

The subjects were inspected by a dis- 
interested barber, and pa retried out to the 
competitors, two to each. And each shaver 
was allowed the services of his own lathering- 
boy : be might also bring his own imple- 
ments, but it were well for him to look after 
them. On one occasion an evilly disposed 
person removed a competitor's razors, and 
only replaced them after he hud whittled a 
few oak sticks with them. 


'-.'. i ■■>.. WATCH 




boys' treacle roll contest* 

But let us get into the present tense, being 
more impressive. The subjects are reclining 
— napkined and smiling through the layers 
of lather. Each competitor — an undis- 
t \ nguis h ed f o re ign er — stands with u p! if t ed 
razor quivering with excitement, and awaiting 
the word of command. "Go! JI the air is 
filled with strange cries, mainly from the 
subjects. They are cut horribly, and cry out 
in a language of their own. It is not magnifi- 
cent, but it is like war. One subject can 
stand it no longer; he rises, gory and wrath- 
ful, and smites the artist allocated to him. 

But let us turn from a scene of such 

A WAbtflMj MAtlll. 

feverish excitement, and consider the pastoral 
simplicity of the boys' treacle -roll contest 
In this we see that a number of hollo wed-out 
pieces of French bread have been filled with 
treacle, and suspended at regular intervals 
from a slack rope. The boys have their 
hands tied behind their backs, and the one 
who can eat the most in a given time is 
hailed as the prize-winner. 

The thing is far from easy. Besides the 
horizontal swing of the bread on the line, 
there is also a vertical dancing movement, 
caused by the slackness of the rope. Then, 
again, when a piece is bitten out of the roll, 

the thick, viscous 
stuff inside comes 
pouring down on the 
upturned face. 

Talking of messes 
brings me to the 
washing contest, 
which is next seen, 
and whose vicinity is 
neither safe nor 
desirable. The 
splashing is terrific, 
ne cause the ladies 
know that the winner 
is entitled to the 
stool, tub, washing- 
board, and clothes 
washed. These latter 
usually consist of 
/Jitflgd Rowels, handed 



THE ffEHJilT-tAWHV'fNfi C"t>MTtlST 1 

out by a non-combatant expert They have 
to be thoroughly washed and wrung out 
within five minutes. Any unfair dealing is 
resented by the arbitrators. It is also 
resented by the competitors themselves, who 
sometimes assert their love of fair play in a 
violent manner, and, perhaps, with wet 
sheets wrung hard. The celerity of some of 
the champions is amazing. One woman 
could do a large family's week's washing in 
little more than an hour* 

In the next photo, is seen in progress the 

weight - carrying 
contest, which 
causes no end of 
fun. The weights 
to be carried — 
sacks of wet sand, 
flour, cement, or 
potatoes— are care- 
fully compared, and 
then placed in the 
middle of a 40ft 
circus-ring. Round 
these stand the com- 
petitors, and, at a 
given word, the men 
hoist the sacks on 
to their head or 
hack, and com- 
mence the race. 
No restrictions are 
put on the method 
of carrying, but 
marks are awarded 
for grace of move- 
ment and dexterity in the management of the 

Here is another competition in which boys 
only take part It is called the Boys 1 
Animal Race, and the competitors can race 
how they please, provided the palms of their 
hands rest upon the ground. As might be 
expected, there is never any lack of entries 
when a hoys' contest is announced ; and at 
such contests the decisions would be easy 
enough, were it not that the lads' fathers and 
mothers, sisters and brothers, muster in strong 





force, and are never backward in giving the 
management large pieces of their mind 
when they consider their boy has been un- 
fairly treated, 

A pretty big space is required for the 
costers* barrow race. The competitors are 
always blindfolded. In order that the neces- 
sary dan may be present in the race, the 
barrows are not the costers' own, 'I his 
being so, tremendous energy and magnificent 
recklessness are shown. Each man feels 
that t having a good substantial barrow in 
front of him, he can literally go anywhere 
and do anything. He does. The starters 
stand all in a row, but the mode of pro- 
gression soon becomes chaotic. The barrows 
crash into each other end on, broadside on, 
and at every conceivable angle. One quiet, 
resolute man, having first carefully surveyed 
the course before the bandage was placed over 

his eyes, incontinently runs amuck among the 
audience, and expresses great surprise on 
learning that he has half killed -in elderly 
female, and stunned a gigantic Billingsgate 
porter who, but a moment before, was 
making the great building resound with 
Homeric laughter. 

Kicking the football through a hoop is the 
next contest to be dealt with here. The 
hoop is held or suspended by a cord, and 
the winner h allowed to claim the football as 
his own. Many skilful football players enter 
for this contest, but the feat is far harder 
than one would think. It is, however, con- 
sidered so easy that scores of people, 
including girls and elderly women, enter the 
contest, with the too frequent result that the 
ball leaves their foot at right angles, and 
strikes full in the face some jubilant on- 
looker who probably took up a position 




considered absolutely "immune" against 

Each competitor is alb wed twelve kicks, 
and some of the more skilful men make 
wonderfully near shots, once they have 
"picked up the range"— to use a military 
term. Only Association balls are used. In 
the photo, it will be noticed that our artist 

has actually photographed the winning feat— 
if one may use such a word in connection 
with a kicking contest. The exposure was 
made at the very moment when the ball was 
passing through the hoop. As this particular 
contest is one requiring some skill and judg- 
ment, readers might try it for themselves, and 
invite their friends to do likewise. Of course, 
when done in a circus ring with a great (and 
unprotected) audience all round, unlooked- 
for contingencies arise which create surprising 

But the most impressive of all the queer 
competitions was the one billed as "One 
Hundred and Fifty Men pulling against an 
Elephant for a Barrel of Beer/'' Of this our 
artist has secured a capital photo. The 
competitors, I should mention, get their 
barrel of beer whether they win or lose. 
Their task is to pull the huge animal back 
over the chalk -line, [kit it has yet to be 
seen how many men are required for this. 
The night our artist attended there were, 
hauling on the rope, twenty or thirty men 
above the advertised number ; yet the 
elephant — a fine brute, weighing nearly four 
tons — simply promenaded about with his 
lengthy and excited following. 

One never- to-be forgotten night the men 
played a trick upon the elephant, to say 
nothing about the: elephant's master Finding 
that they were losing, the hindermost gave the 
big rope a few twists round one of the stout 
wooden beams that supported the building. 
The elephant felt a sudden check, and strained 
forward far more than we see him doing in 
the photo- The proprietor smiled benign- 
antly, knowing nothing. Suddenly the great 
beam broke with a loud report, the huge 
■elephant lurched heavily forward and nearly 
fell, and half the roof came tumbling in on 
the audience, many of whom were half 
delirious with merriment at the turn things 
had taken. It was the most successful 
of all the queer competitions, but it didn't 

Our old friend the greasy pole is next on 
the list. The photograph depicts the moment 
of triumph, when the successful competitor 
has at length reached his goal — a fine leg of 
mutton — and is waving his cap with his free 
hand in token of victory. The pole is 
greased with soft soap, laid on thickly. Not- 
withstanding this, sailors from the docks 
frequently , climb it with an alacrity that 
astonishes the beholders. The ordinary 
rank-and-file of the competitors, however, 
strive in vain to r;:ach t;veii half-way up, 
their r^ff^ audience 





to the wildest mirth. I was told of one 
morose man who, having at length won the 
leg of mutton, committed, with that curious 
but effective weapon, a violent assault upon 
those who had jeered at his awkward efforts. 

Here is a very peculiar 
competition. It is called 
the Big Babies' Race ; hut 
this is a curiously inexact 
title. It is simply a race 
between men, each carry- 
ing a man in his arms 
baby-fashion. The men to 
be carried are, of course, 
weighed carefully, and any 
material difference in 
weight is allowed for by 
extra start. Now, this is 
where the fun comes in. 
The carriers, as you may 
judge, have their work cut 
out for them. They have 
to move pretty fast, and 
carry from ten to twelve 
stone in the bargain, The 
carried, however, are very 
d i Here ntly situated, and 

have really nothing to do but remain 
perfectly still. But a certain desire 
for more or less transient Fame 
prompts them to give utterly unneces- 
sary demonstrations of an embarrass- 
ing kind, Embarrassing, that is, to 
the carriers. For the carried clasp 
their hosts (if I may so call them) 
tightly around the neck, and even hit 
them in the eye with their disengaged 
hand. This sort of thing is discourag- 
ing, and not conducive to agility, but 
it raises the delight of the audience to 
a perfectly frantic pitch. Sometimes 
one pair will conspire to spoil the 
chances of another who look like win- 
ning ; but unfair conduct is almost 
invariably detected, and those who 
practise it disqualified. 

One wonders how the next contest 
originated. Can it be a garbled version 
of the mediaeval tournament? It 
may Ik: briefly described as an indis- 
criminate melee — the combatants 
mounted on donkeys and armed with 
wet mops. As each knight J 5 "un- 
horsed,*' he retires more or less grace- 
fully (sometimes he has to be "per- 
suaded " with bis own mop) ; and the 
solitary survivor the man remaining 
on his donkey to the last — is hailed 
as victor and prize-winner. 
Than this there is no more popular con- 
test Each coster brings his own tc moke," 
and wonderfully intelligent some of these 
animals are. The donkey on the right in the 
photo, is well known throughout the East- 




end as a marvel of intelligence. He is 
shapely and well groomed. He has already 
won several prizes at the donkey shows 
(most delightful of exhibitions)) and at the 
word of command he will lie down, ring a 
bell, or fetch his master's pipe. All this, of 
course, after the hard day's work is done. 

The quick -dressing contest for boys is 
vastly diverting. A number of lads remove 
their hats, coats, waistcoats, and hoots, and 
place these in one big heap in the middle of 
the ring. The heap is afterwards tossed and 
carefully mixed by the attendants; then the 
competitors retire to the judge*s box, some 
little distance away. At a given signal they 
make a dash for the heap of clothes, and the 
one who dresses himself in his own clothes 

and reappears at the judge's box in the 
shortest time — that boy wins the prize, which 
is probably a brand-new suit of clothes. 

The scene is one of the wildest confusion. 
The boys put on each other's clothes, and 
only discover the mistake when too late. 
They wrangle and waste precious moments 
fighting over a tattered vesj, or two right 
boots, You will see them delving at the big 
heap, and pitching aside thur own garments 
in the great excitement of the moment. 
The contest becomes even more complicated 
when men and boys compete together. 
Then you may see the smallest of small boys 
hurrying towards the judge's box in a pair of 
navvy's boots and a huge coat trailing along 
behind* 'Twas all that was left for him. 




poor child, and he should put in some sort 
of appearance. 

E a t i n g - m a tches a re among the most 
popular of all. One is depicted in the 
accompanying photo. The starters in this 
extraordinary race stand in a row, hats or 
caps in hand* In these latter are placed 
identical quantities of dry arrowroot biscuit, 
each lot most carefully weighed* Not a 
crumb is to be wasted. This rule is enforced 
because tricky competitors have been known 
to crumble to dust the greater part of their 
biscuit, thus having to swallow, perhaps, less 
than half the task 
allowance* Each 
man is allowed a 
mug of water, lest 
he should choke. 
The champion 
biscuit-eater is, I am 
told, a Shadwell 
ma n, and he doesn't 
waste time in chew- 
ing the dry stuff, 
but just swallows 
whole lumps, leav- 
ing many of his 
fellow- competitors 
gasping, choking, 
and coughing, in 
the throes of masti- 

There is another 
eating match. 

Scalding hot suet 
dumplings, all of 
one weight, are 
placed before a 
number of lads, and 
the hands of the 
latter are tied be- 
hind their backs. 
The moment the 
signal is given, the 
young fellows bend 
to their work with 
all the zest of the 
Oxford eight Pos- 
sibly you wouldn't 
think this kind of 
contest admitted of 
any ingenuity? It 
does, however* This 
particular eating 
match was brought 
off on the stage at 
1 ( Wo n d er 1 a n d " be for e a cro w d ed aud i e n ce, 
I watched the winner of the first heat 
tackling his second dumpling. The others 
were blowing vigorously upon the steam- 
ing mass, but he was not. He just smote 
that scalding dumpling with his head — 
the corner of his forehead, to be exact— and 
flattened it out over the plate. Then his 
task was easy, for after the first upward rush 
of steam* the dumpling grew comparatively 
cool in a few seconds. And the other 
fellows wondered why they hadn't thought of 
the same thing* 

uaiem; slaluim. DUMH-EHOtf against TUtE. 

VoL jciv^-O. 

by Google 

Original from 

The Catch of the Season. 

By Mary Angela Dickens* 

RS. COCHRANE'S supper- 
parties had become a feature 
of the season. Mrs. Coch- 
rane^ whole establishment had 
developed considerably in 
popularity this year, and Mrs. 
Cochrane herself was rather sought after. 
The late Mr. Cochrane, by -the -by e t had died 
so long ago that he seemed only to have 
existed in order to provide his widow with 
a very comfortable income, which she per- 
sistently outran. 

The particular supper-party in question 
had followed an evening at a musk-hall, and 
the eight people assembled in the smoking- 
room were in hilarious spirits. Mrs. Cochrane 
herself was as nearly full length as possible 
in a low chair, smoking a cigarette. At her 
feet, cross-legged, on a stool, was a noisy 
youth, and close by lounged an older man. 
The next trio was composed of two very 
smart women and a man. They were playing 
cards and gambling recklessly. It was under 
cover of a burst of laughter from the other 
group that one of these women glanced 
round at the last remaining couple, and said, 
with a knowing laugh : — 

u What do you bet she's brought it off 
to-night? Look at them ! " 

The two thus alluded to were a young 
man and a girl. The girl held a banjo, and 
her face was bent over it as she readjusted 
one of the strings. The man was leaning 
forward watching her intently. The full light 
of a lamp caught his face, and showed it 
straightforward and even boyish ; good-look- 
ing, in a fair, regular-featured fashion. 
The woman addressed smiled, spitefully. 
" Ralph Hamer has walked into the trap 
like the good-natured booby he is," she re 
sponded. " I suppose Mrs. Cochrane had 
th j girl up on purpose ! " 

"She's done herself a lot of good by the 
way, then," said the man, shuffling the cards. 
"It's given her no end of kudos to have 
that girl in tow. Cousin of Mrs. Cochrane's, 
isn't she ? " 

At that moment, with a loud preliminary 
chord on the banjo, the girl in the back- 
ground broke out into song. It was a 
popular street-song, with a catchy rhythm, 
and she sang it with extraordinary spirit ami 
dash. In two minutes everyone was singing 
the chorus, and as the noisy hurst of applause 
died away Mrs- Cochrane rose. 

*' Sylvia," she said, laughing, "you've 
broken up the sitting* A realization of the 
feelings of our neighbours reminds me of the 
fact that it's nearly three o'clock, and it*s 
time I turned everyone out ! " 

There was more laughter, a noisy leave- 
taking in the hall, and then Mrs, Cochrane 
turned and went back to the smoking-room. 
She went slowly, the smiles dying from her 
face before the sharp, calculating expression 
which did duty with her for thoughtful ness. 
The room had a dissipated and dishevelled 
look, and on the hearthrug, with one hand 
resting on the mantelpiece, stood the girl 
who had sung to the banjo, alone, 




She was a tall girl, and she was wonder- 
fully pretty. She had a straight little nose, a 
Cupid's bow mouth, and a curiously strong 
outline of jaw and chin which gave the charm 
of the unexpected to her appearance. She 
raised her eyes as Mrs. Cochrane came in, 
and her eyes were something of a disappoint- 
ment They were large and well shaped, 
but they seemed to lack depth. She spoke 
in a clear, rather hard, voice. 

" I should like to speak to you for a 
moment, if you are not in a hurry." 

Mrs. Cochrane cast a somewhat furtive 
glance at her. 

:< It's late," she said, carelessly, " but there's 
no particular hurry." 

There was a vague distance and formality 
about the manner of each woman to the other 
now, differing noticeably from their manner to 
one another in public. 

" It is due to you," the girl went on, "that 
you should be the first to know that I am 
engaged to Sir Ralph Hamer." 

Mrs. Cochrane rested one foot on the 

"Ah!" she said, at last. She looked up 
in the girl's face again, with a quick, in- 
quisitive glance. " Well — I congratulate you. 
There's no doubt that you've made the catch 
of the season. It came off this evening, I 
suppose ? " 

The girl made an impatient gesture of 
assent, and then each woman seemed to be 
thinking over her next words. Mrs. Cochrane 
came to a conclusion first. 

"I take it for granted," she said, in 
business-like tones, " that you have not for- 
gotten the first condition of the arrangement 
between us ? " 

The girl looked at her companion for the 
first time. There was a curious expression 
in her eyes — relief, defiance, and a touch of 

" You mean — that we should speak to no 
one of the relation in which we stand ? No, 
I have not forgotten ! " 

" Ah ! " said Mrs. Cochrane, again. She 
was looking attentively into the fire. " And, 
for the future ? " 

There was no answer. The girl had turned 
away and was twisting her gloves with oddly 
fierce movements of her fingers. A thin 
smile touched Mrs. Cochrane's lips. She 
spoke, however, suavely, and with a touch of 

" I don't know what your views may be," 
she said ; " but really, I don't know that you 
can do much better than sit tight to that 
condition. Of course, I know nothing about 

you," she added, quickly, and with another 
of those appraising glances, " but — if I were 
you — I think " . 

There was a world of suggestion in the 
dropping away of her voice, and this time the 
girl spoke. 

" You mean that you advise me to let 
Sir Ralph marry your cousin and guest?" 
she said, hardly. 

Mrs. Cochrane shrugged her shoulders. 

" I don't advise," she said. " But here's 
the case. We had better call things by their 
right names for once. I was desperately 
hard up, and I advertised, under the rose, 
for a girl who wanted to be introduced into 
society and who was willing to pay a pretty 
high figure. It's been done by other people 
before me, only, of course, it doesn't do to 
have it known. You answered my advertise- 
ment, through your solicitor; we had an 
interview ; we exchanged references, and we 
fixed it up. We neither of us asked un- 
necessary questions, and we've got along 
very well. Now, of course, I don't par- 
ticularly wish that Ralph Hamer should know 
that I'm reduced to taking a girl into my 
house for a consideration. But the question 
is — do you particularly wish it? If I were 
you, I think I shouldn't ! " 

Again there was no answer. The girl was 
standing with her head bent, her hands 
clenched round the gloves. The elder 
woman laid her hand suddenly on the round 
young arm. 

" Don't be a fool," she said. " You're not 
half a bad sort, whoever you are, and you 
may just as well pull this off! Don't say 
anything to him ! The Hamers are an 
awfully old family and all that, and frightfully 
proud. He mightn't make a fuss, but — he 
might ! You shall be married from here, 
don't you know, and afterwards— it'll be all 
right ! " 

Sylvia Yorke turned her head slowly. It 
cannot be said there was any gratitude in 
her face. There was a bitter smile about 
her mouth and her eyes were hard. The 
most striking feature in her complex ex- 
pression was an indescribable contempt — a 
contempt which was not all for Mrs. 

" Thanks," she said. " I'll think it over." 

She disengaged herself deliberately from 
Mrs. Cochrane's hold, and went out of the 

Mrs. Cochrane stared after her, blankly. 

" I wonder ! " she said to herself — " I 

wonder who she is, 3nd I wonder what she'll 

do. Horrid nuisance that she should have 
UTm' tfolTY UF ml L Nib ATI 



got engaged 1 " And then she too departed 
to her own room. 

Mrs, Cochrane went to bed. But Sylvia 
Yorke made no attempt to do so. She sat 
down in an arm-chair by the fire and stared 
into the flames. At last she roused herself. 
She went to the dressing table and took up a 
letter which lay there — a large envelope, 
unopened. She carried it back to her chair, 
sat down again, and opened it There was 
another letter inclosed ; a common envelope 
addressed in a straggling hand to "Miss 
Sylvia Yorke^ care of Messrs. Symons and 
Cooke, Golden Square, London." This, 
also, Sylvia opened, and from it she drew a 
letter It was written in the same illiterate 
hand, and it was signed, " Your afeetionat 
mother, Martha Yorke/' 

Sylvia read it through, and as she finished 
it she rose abruptly. She crumpled the sheet 
of paper in her hand, and threw it with a 
certain violent precision right into the heart 
of the glowing coals. 

" It can't be helped, 1 ' she said to herself. 
Her face was white and seL " It can't be 

Mrs. Cochrane and her guest did not 
breakfast together. When Mrs, Cochrane 

put in an appearance in the 
drawing-room on the following 
morning at about half-past eleven, 
Sylvia was moving restlessly about 
the room* She stopped, and 
spoke at once. 

" Sir Ralph Hamer will be 
here by-and-by," she said. Her 
voice rang hard and defiant 
" Will you see him ? He will 
want to be married soon, I 
believe— there is no reason why 
we should wait — and if it is to 
be from here, you would like to 
have it settled" 

Mrs, Cochrane smiled. 
"Oh," she said; " you've de- 

Twenty -four hours later, all 
" the world " knew that Sir Ralph 
Hamer was engaged to Mrs. 
Cochrane's cousin — "that pretty 
Yorke girl, you know," people 
said. " She's staying with Mrs, 
Cochrane for the season. She 
has a little money, too, they say 
— not that old Ralph wants it 
And no people — an orphan, and 
that kind of thing !" 

The wedding was to take place 
in the middle of July ; the two people chiefly 
concerned lived in a whirl of trousseau, 
house-hunting, and furnishing assisted with 
an independent selfishness, eminently charac- 
teristic of her, by Mrs. Cochrane, and the rush 
of the London season grew faster and faster, 
Before long it began to be said that Sylvia 
Yorke was over-doing it. 

" She can't stand it, you know," said sage 
observers. "She looks awfully thin and 
fagged — quite plain, I thought her, the other 

"Her nerves are all to pieces, too," was 
the response. " She's as fractious as she can 
be. She'll break down if she doesn't look 
out, or Sir Ralph will break it off! " 

But in spite of these prognostications, 
Sylvia Yorke did not break down, nor did 
Sir Ralph Hamer appear to contemplate 
"breaking it off!" That her temper grew 
increasingly fitful no one knew better than 
those who had most to do with her. She 
had also lost flesh and colour to a noticeable 
extent, and there was a strained look in her 
eyes. But she spared neither herself nor 
anyone else, and her sharpest speeches never 
brought more than 3. passing cloud to the 

suns %i«#Mty! 




The day before that fixed for the wedding 
came in due time, and early in the afternoon 
Sir Ralph Hamer stood on the steps outside 
Mrs. Cochrane^ house. The sunshine was 
blazing down upon him, and he was dressed 
in attire little calculated to withstand the rays 
of the sun— the correct catling costume of an 
English gentleman. But he appeared to be 
absolutely oblivious of discomfort. His face 
was good to see. It was expressive of such 
simple, overflowing 
contentment The door 
was opened, and he 
passed into the cool 
shade of the house. 

" If you'll wait here 
a moment, sir," said 
the servant, opening 
the dining-room door, 
"Miss Yorke told me 
to say she would be 
ready in a moment." 

It was scarcely a 
moment, indeed, be- 
fore Sylvia Yorke 
came in. She, too, 
was dressed for calling. 
She wore one of the 
big picture hats of the 
season, and it suited 
her to perfection. She 
looked curiously gentle 
and quiet, and as she 
came towards Sir Ralph 
there was something in 
her manner which sug- 
gested that the effect 
produced was not nil ' 
due to the picture hat. 
He stooped to kiss 
her with a certain eager 
timidity— last time they 
mt_i she had (let land that she hated to he 
kissed. But to-day she suddenly put up 
her hands and drew his head down. 

u Ralph," she said, " you do love me, don't 
you ? ■ 

Sir Ralph's reply need not be chronicled. 
It was absolutely sincere, but a trifle con- 
ventional. But it hardly satisfied Sylvia 

41 Me— my own self?" she said. "Ah, 
don't protest I Say it quietly — I want to 
believe you." 

Something in the vibration of her voice 
penetrated to the young man's consciousness. 
He did not understand her, but intuition 
served him in place of comprehension. He 
took her two hands in his and pressed his 



lips to them with a steady, tender touch. 
Then he said : — 

M 1 love you, your very own self, with all 
my heart and soul" 

" You would love me — Sylvia — whoever I 

"I should love you— Sylvia — whoever you 
were ! '* 

He smiled as he spoke, and she sud- 
denly dropped his hands, dinging to him 

w Oh 3 Ralph,'* she 
said, with an odd, suf- 
focated tone in her 
voice. " Oh, Ralph, 
I love you ! I can't 
help it ! I love you ! " 
Ralph Hamer held her 
close, and the room 
was very still. 

It was Hamer who 
moved first. The little 
scene seemed for the 
moment to have re- 
versed their usual 
position. He turned 
her cheek up with a 
tender touch and 
kissed it, 

"Well," he said, with 
a long sigh. M We must 
go, I suppose, my dar- 

Sylvia did not stir, 
" I wish/' she said, 
in a low, far-away tone, 
" there were no one 
else in the world- only 
you and I." 

Ralph Hamer 
laughed lovingly, " I 
wish it too, sweet- 
heart," he said. "When I think of to- 
morrow, I wish it devoutly ! But, unfortu- 
nately, there are one or two other people, 
you see— and there is Aunt Ellinor awaiting 
our arrival at this moment, worse luck." 

A faint sigh from Sylvia, and then she 
drew herself from his hold, and rearranged 
her hair and hat. 

11 We'll walk to a hansom,"she said, absently. 
"Shall we go?" 

They were going together to an aunt of 
Ralph Harness — an old lady who was too 
infirm to go to the wedding on the following 
day. She had already seen Sylvia, and had 
been much attracted by her, and on the 
present occasion there was a courteous tender- 



which was very charming. But in some in- 
definable way she seemed to jar upon Sylvia 
Yorke. As she sat in the dainty drawing- 
room, listening to the feeble, high-bred old 
voice, the girl's expression gradually changed, 
and the lines of her face grew hard and 
sharp. She rose at last, rather abruptly, to 
take leave. 

Old Lady Ellin or put out a blanched and 
wrinkled hand and drew the girl down beside 

" Good-bye, my dear," she said. u May 
you be very, very happy," She paused a 

courtesy. He took refuge in a cheerful 
flow of words words about nothing — 
a flow which he kept up in hopeful 
oblivion of the fact that Sylvia made him 
no answer* 

He was talking himself into his usual 
serenity when he was suddenly checked. 
Into the middle of a cheery sentence broke 
Sylvia's voice : — 

" Ralph, for goodness sake, stop ! I don't 
care a bit about bearing -reins, or anything 
else now." 

She spoke with so sharp a note of irritation 

I o • 


moment, looking into the pretty, unresponsive 
face. Then she added, t( My child, may an 
old woman say to you how much she feels 
for you tomorrow, in that you have no 
mother to be with you. I — — n 

But Sylvia Yorke had risen sharply to her 

" Thank you, Lady Ellinor," she said, 
hardly; "you are so kind to me. Good-bye. 
Ralph, are you ready?" 

Ralph was ready, and he was also rather 
annoyed with his aunt for "upsetting Sylvia 
with sentimental nonsense/' and with himself 
for feeling that Sylvia had behaved with scant 

that Ralph Harrier looked at her in startled 
amazement. Her lips were pale and com- 
pressed, and her brows were drawn together 
as she looked straight before her- 

"I — Pm awfully sorry, dearest/' he 
faltered. M I didn't know " 

She stopped him with a gesture. 

" There— don't ! " she said "Here we 
are, thank goodness." 

The cab drew up at Mrs. Cochrane's door, 
Ralph Hamer helped her out, and then 
hesitated. , 


^m I not to come in?" he asked 

the almost 



fierce answer. " Yes, Mrs. Cochrane expects 
you — you can come ! " 

And the door being opened, she swept 
impetuously into the house. 

Mrs. Cochrane was in the drawing-room, 
and she held out her hand to Sir Ralph with 
an effusive but rather forced smile. Mrs. 
Cochrane had found it by no means un- 
pleasant to have a young man devotedly 
attached to her menage, but at the moment it 
bored her to have to be amiable to him. 

" Here you are ! " she said. " I'm too dead- 
beat to get up to receive you ! Take a finger 
and shake it gently, or I may fall to pieces. " 

" I'm awfully sorry," returned the young 
man. " Parties, Mrs. Cochrane ? " 

" Parties ! " she echoed. " As if I should 
have time for parties to-day ! That's Sylvia's 
tea. No, Sir Ralph, weddings— your wedding. 
Such a bother about the flowers, Sylvia, and 
that wretched woman hasn't sent my frock." 

" Hasn't she ? " Nothing could well have 
been more curt and less interested than 
Sylvia's comment, and Mrs. Cochrane looked 
at her sharply. Then she leaned back in 
her chair. She was tired and she was cross. 
The non-arrival of her dress was a grievance ; 
she wanted to give vent to her temper, and 
Sylvia's indifference irritated her. There 
was a spiteful gleam in her eyes as she said, 
lightly :— 

" And what have you two been doing ? 
Lady Ellinor, wasn't it ? Go off nicely ? " 

There was a moment's blank silence ; then 
Sylvia Yorke said, brusquely : — 

" I don't know that it did, particularly. 
Why should it ? " 

Ralph Hamer's protest was forestalled by 
Mrs. Cochrane. She laughed. 

" Really, I don't know," she said. 
" People-in-law are proverbially a bore, 
aren't they? It's lucky for Sir Ralph that 
you don't bring him any." 

She glanced as she spoke from Sylvia to 
Ralph Hamer, with a cynical little laugh. 
And as his frank tone responded, Sylvia 
Yorke moved restlessly. The irritation of 
her nerves seemed to be growing upon her. 

" I don't know that, Mrs. Cochrane," he 
said. " I think I should have got on all right 
with Sylvia's people, if she had had any ! " 

" Doesn't it depend at all on what they 
might be like?" returned Mrs. Cochrane. 
She was looking at the young man with a 
touch of mockery in her face, and she was 
quite unaware that Sylvia Yorke w r as gazing 
intently at her. " Supposing you had found 
Sylvia's aunts — as she evidently finds yours — 
nuisances 1" 

" Did you find Aunt Ellinor— a nuisance ? " 
said Sir Ralph, waiving the point at issue, 
and turning very simply and wistfully to 

She started sharply, and a great wave of 
colour swept over her face. 

" I never said that ! " she said, recklessly. 
" But I don't care for that style, don't you 
know ! Don't suppose for a moment that 
I shall grow into the old-fashioned type, 
Ralph. I shall go with the times ! I'm 
nothing if not modern — mind that ! " 

" Mind yourself, in short, Sir Ralph," 
cried Mrs. Cochrane, hilariously. " You'd 
better make sure what kind of young woman 
you're marrying, while there's time. It's 
proverbially weak - minded, you know, to 
4 buy a pig in a poke ' ! " 

There was an unmistakable sneer in her 
voice now, as she fixed her shallow gaze on 
Sir Ralph's open face, and quite suddenly 
Sylvia Yorke started to her feet. 

" Ralph," she said, sharply, " I wish you'd 
go ! I'm tired to death. Go at once." 

"Sir Ralph is here, please, miss. He 
came away with me at once ! " 

It was ten o'clock on the following morn- 
ing — the day that was to be Sylvia Yorke's 
wedding day, and the words were spoken by 
Mrs. Cochrane's housemaid. She was stand- 
ing on the threshold of Sylvia's bedroom. 

There was no answer. Sylvia herself was 
standing with her back to the door. For the 
moment she did not move. Then she 
turned and came across the room. She 
seemed hardly to realize the servant's 
presence until she was actually passing her, 
and then she suddenly put out her hand. 

"Thank you, Lucy," she said. "You are 
a kind girl." 

Then she went on down the stairs ; she 
opened the drawing-room door and went in, 
shutting it deliberately behind her. 

Sir Ralph was waiting for her, and he 
came hastily towards her. 

"Dearest," he said, "there's nothing 
wrong? Your note— Sylvia, dearest, how 
odd you look ! " 

But Sylvia stopped him. 

" Don't ! " she said, steadily, but in a low, 
strained voice. " I've got something to tell 
you. Sit down, Ralph." 

" Something to tell me ? " he echoed. He 
obeyed her mechanically, and she walked to 
the window. Then she turned and faced 
him, steadily. 

" I didn't mean to tell you until after we 
were married. I didn't mean you to know. 




You won't marry me> of course, when you do 
know, hut I can't help that ; I must tell you." 

Sheer wonder and bewilderment evidently 
kept Ralph Hamer in his seat, and sealed 
his lips, His eyes were eloquent enough 
— eloquent of absolute incomprehension and 
incredulity. There was hardly a breathing 
space of silence, and then she went on. 

"I've deceived you/' she said " YouVe 
simply been taken in, You ihink I'm a 
cousin of Mrs. Cochrane's, a girl of good 
family and without relations, I'm nothing of 
the kind. I never heard of Mrs, Cochrane, 
nor she of me, until a few months ago. I don't 
want to drag her into it, more than is necessary, 
but you must know the fact. I paid to come 
to her — paid her to introduce me and take 
me about— do you understand? 7 ' 

There was a long, deep breath, Ralph Hamer 
had risen to his feet, and he stood gazing 
full at her, his pleasant face pale and dazed. 

i - 

,- .■- 


" I — don't think I do ! " he said, in a low, 
uneven voice. 

She laughed a fierce, grating laugh, A 
burning patch of colour appeared on either 
cheek, and she began to speak recklessly. 

"You will," she said, "when you get used 
to it ! I paid, I tell you, to live in her house 
and go about with her; and nothing was to 
be said by either of us to anyone. Well, that's 
not all — if it had been, I might have told you 
when we were first engaged, I suppose it's 
just possible that I might have come into Mrs. 
Cochrane's house in this way and yet have 
been — all right — a lady, and that kind of 
thing. But— I'm not, I come of common 
people— not even middle-class - but common 
people. My father " — she paused a moment, 
and then continued, defiantly— "my father 
keeps a little public- house in a suburb of 

There was a moment's blank silence, Then 

Ralph Hamer turned away, and, stretching 

out his hand, steadied himself against a tall 

chair-back, and stood with his head bent as 

though he were confronting a rough wind, 

When the girl spoke again her voice had 

dropped strangely. It 

■ -i was hard and dull 

** It is clue to you," 
she said, " to know how 
it came about— as far as 
I can explain it. I don't 
know how it was that I 
was always different from 
the girls I ought to have 
made friends with — the 
butchers daughter and 
the baker's daughter ! But 
I was, I always wanted 
to know more and see 
more. I wanted another 
kind of life, and I hated 
all our ways. My father 
and mother spoilt me. 
They sent me to a good 
school away from home 
even when I was quite a 
little thing. And then, 
when my money came, it 
was all easy," She paused 
and laid one hand on the 
window curtain, clench- 
ing it tightly, "It was 
a cousin of my fathers 
who left me my money," 
she said. tl I've not de- 
ceived you there. I have 
money. Father wouldn't 
use it- he said he did 
not want it, and they wanted me to 
have my way, I was fourteen then, and 
they let me go and live in Dresden, I 
went to live among gentlepeople altogether, 
and then I knew— I knew— that I couldn't 




help it — that it was in me to like it best and 
to be like them — and not like— my own 
class. I read and I heard things, and I 
longed to see the world. I suppose I was 
ambitious, according to my miserable lights, 
and I thought I could make a life for myself. 
I saw Mrs. Cochrane^ advertisement, and I 
answered it. I didn't tell my father and 
mother where I was — they look upon me as 
a being from another sphere, poor things, 
and leave it all to me. They've never 
even heard of you — 1 couldn't very 
well be married from home, you see ! n 
She stopped an instant, drawing a quick, 
deep breath. Then she went on, ** I'm an 
adventuress, I suppose — like a melo-drama, 
or a third - rate novel. 
I never thought of that 
before ! I never thought of 
marrying until 1 got into 
the swing of things and 
saw — how easy it would 
be. Then I made tip 
my mind that I would. 
You may as well know 
the very worst of me — I 
drew you on ! I thought 
you were just the thing. 
And it was all right. I 
should have gone through 

with it, only— only " 

Her voice broke and died 
away. There was a mo- 
ment's dead silence, and 
then she added, hoarsely, 
" It doesn't matter. I 
couldn't _bear to hear that 
hateful woman sneer at 
you— that's all" 

It seemed to be all, 
indeed. There was no 
sound in the room except 
the man's quick breathing 
and the soft sound made 
by the girl's hand as she 
clenched and unclenched 
it round a fold in the curtain. At last Ralph 
Hairier said, In a low, stifled voice :— 

"Do you mean me to understand that — 
you never cared for me ? " 
A spasm passed across her face, 
"I don't see what that has to do with it/' 
she said. "I've deceived you, don't you 
see? I don't belong to your class- You 
would never have thought of marrying me 
if you had known all about me," She 
stopped abruptly ; then, as abruptly, she 



by Google 

spoke again : i£ It is no use to say I'm sorry, 
or anything of that kind. Of course, you'll 
always hate the thought of me ! Try not to 
think of me at all/' 

She tore her hold from the curtain, and 
was dashing blindly across the room towards 
the door, when her passage was suddenly 
blocked. Ralph Hamer stood straight 
before her, 

u It's too late, Sylvia ! " he said. His face 
was white and drawn, and his voice was 
husky. "It doesn't matter now what I 
should have done or shouldn't have done. 
Do you think I care a hang who you are or 
what you are? You're Sylvia — my Sylvia! 
That's all I know— all I care about, unless 
— you don't love me ? " 

She drew away from 
him, gazing into his face. 
u Do you quite under- 
stand what I've told 
you ? " she asked. " Do 
you quite understand ? " 

u I don't understand 
whether you love me, 
Sylvia — and nothing else 
matters ! " 

There was a moment's 
breathless pause, and 
then, quite suddenly, she 
was sobbing passionately 
on his shoulder. 

" Oh, how dense you 
are ! M she cried, wildly* 
(t How very, very dense ! 
Don't you see that it's 
just because I've grown 
to love you so, to love 
you more than anything 
or anybody in all the 
world, that I was forced 
to tell you ? " 

It answered very well. 
What far-off ancestor had 
repeated himself in Sylvia 
Yorke it was impossible to say. But, who- 
ever he was, gentle blood had run in his veins, 
and surely gentle blood ran now in hers, 
Uady Hamer made herself a place in the 
London world, and she and her husband are 
one of the happiest and most popular couples 
to be met with. They are nowhere more 
popular than in the house of Lady Hamer's 
father, which they visit— occasionally. And 
no one was more surprised at the success 
of the match than Mrs, Cochrane. 

Original from 


i) Qi)(M 

j'/^ore, JDog&J 


Y this I began to grow more 

accustomed to the brown gentle- 

f£ man with the coffee-pot hat. I 

felt that, after all, such a person 

must have been quite a familiar 

figure in ancient Egypt, and indeed I began to 

feel that I should 

lose myself In this 

ex tra ordinary 

show without his 

guidance ; so that 

I became con- 
scious of much 

sympathy and 

fellow - feeling 

with the brown 


though whether 

or not it was at 

all due to his re 

an aue to nis re- ^^^nS^s 

gard for strict ^^yi\ 

truth I would y^^~-^\ V/ 

rather not say. / ^^ /J 

" Came/' he I SZ» ^£ 

said, " here are 
the collies. Collie 
fanciers call them 
the topmost of 
all dogs — the 
cauliflower of the 
canine race, so 
to speak. But 
they're insincere. 
Look at 'em ! 
There's a whole 
row of them 

by Google 


anxious to shake hands — even to attempt 
liberties in the way of licks ; and this 
although they're all perfect strangers. Ever 
meet any of them before ? " 

I had to admit that as far as I was con- 
cerned they were all entire strangers, and, 

indeed, they 
were most effu- 
sive. They drag- 
ged at their chains 
and hung long 
tongues out of 
friendly grins, 
while such as had 
learned the trick 
(and most of 
them had) thrust 
forth paws to 

"That's just 
like the collie/ 1 
said the brown 
man ; u he has a 
diseased craving 
to be popular, and 
so he goes about 
doing the cordial. 
Honestly, I be- 
lieve, he'd much 
rather bite. But 
it takes a dog a 
long time to bite 
himself into 
popularity ? and 
so the collie licks 
and shakes hands 

Original from 



— that being the 
shortest cut By this 
means he gets so 
popular that he can 
afford a bite now and 
again— and he has it, 
I tell you ! ■ 

By this we were past 
the collies — to my 
relief, for I have seen 
a collie suddenly plant 
a most amiable grin 
round about a human 
calf — we were past the 
col lies , and I had an 
extensive view of a 

* c Fine back, isn't 
it ? " the brown gentle- 
man commented. 

" Belongs to a mastiff. sulkikg* 

He's sulking. Natural, 

perhaps, considering he's so much out in the 
cold now. Foreign competition again. His 
complaint is just that of the bulldog, but the 
mastiff has more reason. Hardly a soul 
troubles about him now, and people who 
want size patronize the Dane." 

At this, a deep rumbling growl was heard 
behind the vast 
expanse of back ; 
the mastiff had 
recognised the 
name of his 
hated rival, and 
he showed signs 
or making pre- 
parations to turn 
himself entirely 
round and face 
us. So we left, 
hurriedly, A 
mastiff is not 
naturally short- 
tempered, but 
one doesn't feel 
confident in his 
presence when 
he is aroused by 
remembrance of 
his wrongs at the 
hands of the 
Great Dane. 
Still, a sulky 
mastiff requires 
a certain amount 
of time to turn 
himself com- 
pletely round, 



and we were still 
among the big dogs 
when we stopped, and 
I brushed against an 
immense leather 
muzzle which hung 
from the bench where 
a Newfoundland sat. 

" Muzzle ! J? com- 
mented the brown 
man. " Presented by 
a grateful nation (or 
County Council, per- 
haps) m token of 
services rendered, 
They're giving him a 
lest, you see. He's 
saved so many lives 
by jumping into the 
water and laying hold , 
of drowning people's 
clothes with his 
mouth, that they've put a muzzle on him 
so as to insure his having a holiday for the 
rest of his life, and saving no more lives. 
Besides, I have heard that his teeth some- 
times damaged the clothes, which would 
never do. Moreover, once or twice he saved 
people who should properly have been al- 
lowed to drown, 
"Look at 
this. Bob-tailed 
sheep-doc;. He's 
a creature to be 
pitied, now. 
Down in his 
native place — all 
in the Downs, in 
fact— he was con- 
tented and fairly 
happy, and they 
called him the 
Southdown Cur. 
He didn't mind 
that — he was 
used to abuse. 
One eminent 
authority called 
him a ' blue, 
grizzled, rough- 
haired, large- 
limbed, surly, 
small - eared, 
small - ey ed , 
leggy, bob-tailed 
dog/ and printed 
it in a book ; but 
the dog didn't 

ocietv. seem to mind, 

orrgfnal from 


7 6 


He went about his 
humble duties much 
as usual, tmd did not 
increase his allowance 
of human leg by as 
much a^ a mouthful : 
though any dog mi^ht 
be excused for losing 
his temper at being 
called a bob - tailed 
cur, to say nothing of 
the other things. But 
then somebody dis- 
covered him, and 
suddenly he became 
fashionable. It doesn't 
suit him a bit. Just 
look at him. Dots 
he seem cut out to 
dwell in gilded splen- 
dour ? Does he look 
a bit like a giddy 
flatterer amid the 
what d'ye call of the 
thingumbob ? Put 
him on his native 
heath, and give him 
a crowd of live mutton 
to bully, and hell 
make the wool fly with 

perfect self - possession, and receive the 
maledictions of his gentle shepherd with 
native insouciant e. But in a drawing room 
he's out of his element. He doesn't know 
what to do with his hat and stick, his eye- 
glass won't stop in, he falls over his legs, 
and he spills his tea* And he feels altogether 


as bad as— as that St + 
Bernard pup," 

The St. Bernard 
pup had been so in- 
quisitive as to peep 
over the partition at 
the dog behind him. 
The dog was ill-tem- 
pered, and a bulldog, 
and now the St. Ber- 
nard pup was trying 
to look as though 
some other pup had 
peeped — without the 
smallest success. 

i£ Here are the 
bloodhounds," the 
brown Egyptian re- 
sumed. " Most of the 
old ladies go round 
the other way — the 
name is rather shock- 
ing,, I must admit. 
Great animals, blood- 
hounds. Any num- 
ber of wonderful 
anecdotes as to their 
tracking powers, 
Sometimes they try 
the bloodhound after 
he fails each time, 
go on just the 

a murderer, and 

but the anecdotes 

same. Still, the anecdotes ore a hit timid 

in some respects, The wonderful events 

mostly occurred a long time ago> and they 

have a way of happening in the West Indies 

and so forth. That is fable, I scorn such 


1 J tt'OMJliK WHO* I UJ.I:K 


•fi.i. Hiutp.- Original from "<»*. ^»'-'\ 



timidities. I knew 

a bloodhound 

only last week 

who had a won- 
derful scent. His 

master used to 

amuse himself by 

tearing up a letter 

into little bits and 

scattering them 

out of window. 

The faithful 

hound would 

rush out and 

bring evtiy bit 

back, no matter 

how far it might 

have blown, and 

then, entirely by 

his wonderful 

scent, he would 

re -arrange them 

in their right 

places on the rug, 

so that the letter 

might be read. 

Yes, he was a very 

good dog. He saved his master from com- 
mitting suicide — simply by his wonderful 

scent Master had misfortunes in the City- - 

ruined. Rushed to telegraph office and sent 

home wire, * Everything lost. I go to hide 

myself away and commit suicide. — Mudkins.' 

Then he rushed 
off. Wife dis- 
tracted, of 
course. Didn't 
know what to 
do or where to 
go to stop sui- 
cide. Bright 
idea ; let blood- 
hound smell 
telegram. De- 
voted creature 
sniffed it, and 
with a delighted 
howl set off run- 
ning to post- 
office and 
thence under 
telegraph wires 
all the way to 
the City. Ran 
with nose in air, 
smelling wires 
thirty feet up by 
which message 
had come. Con- 




sequently kept 
running against 
telegraph poles, 
but didn't mind 
that. Arrived at 
London post- 
office, got on his 
master's tracks 
there, and ran 
him down at last 
in a cellar, about 
to blow out his 
brains. Faithful 
hound flung itself 
on unhappy 
master, snapped 
revolver out of 
his hand, bit all 
the bullets out of 
cartridges and 
swallowed 'em. 
Master finding 
himself with only 
blank cartridge 
gave up idea, 
went back to 
office, and found 

it all a mistake. What dyou think of that ? No 

feebleness about an anecdote like that, eh? 

Noble dogs, bloodhounds. Not many of the 

human visitors here stand comparison with 

them in appearance, do they ? The blood- 
hound's regal, but the little Airedale terrier's 

a gentleman, 

too. The evo- 
lution of the 

bloodhound is 

finished. We're 

breeding up 

some of the 

other sorts 

slowly into hu- 
mans, as I've 

already told 

you, but you 

can't go much 

higher than the 

blood hound, 

and you'd risk 

going lower. 

Not that some 

breeders mind 

going lower, 

you know. For 

instance, some 

of them are 

working the 

Maltese terrier 

down into the the scotch tekrikr. 

Original from 




■ 7 

— <j 



vegetable kingdom, hoping, when they've 
evoluted his legs away and made a stalk 
of his tail, to get a new variety of chry- 
santhemum. But this isn't legitimate. Its 
as bad as the devolution of the dach- 
shund into a sausage. On the other hand, 
the poodle's very advanced. What with 
its curl-papers and its top-knots, and its 
corkscrew ringlets and its changing 
fashions, nobody would be surprised to 
find a Pioneer Poodle Club established 
to-morrow, for the furtherance of Poodles' 
Rights, At present, as you will observe, 
one of the poodle's wrongs arises from 
its indistinguishability when asleep. It 
then becomes a mere heap of thrums and 
threads and general wool waste, and people 
poke it with sticks, asking, " Why, what 

sort o' dawg's this here— not a poodle, is 
it ? " And after thirty or forty such experiences 
the poodle loses his temper — unless he's a 
very mild poodle, indeed* But the chief 
wrong of the poodle is the razor. Sometimes 
he is shaved so as to appear as nearly like 
a ridiculous lion as possible, with frilled cuffs. 
Then he catches lumbago. As soon as he 
is getting used to the lumbago, and beginning 
to like it, somebody shaves his head and lets 
the ( oat grow round the body like a muff, 
and then he catches influenza. But whether 
a muff or a tasselled lion, whether regaled 
with lumbago or influenza, the poodle 
is held in derision all the time. Little 
boys laugh at him in the street, navvies 





guffaw, and schoolgirls giggle. Nobody 
will take the poodle seriously. Per- 
haps the name has something to do 
with it. What a noble name is St. 
Bernard ! Bloodhound has a majestic 
terror of its own ; mastiff expresses 
staunch power in its very sound ; Great 
Dane is serenely noble, and * bull- 
dog ' has a sound of very respectable 
breadth and substantiality. But poodle 1 
It is a derision in itself It is far 
worse than noodle ; there is a con- 
temptuous burst about the first syllable 
that noodle bcks altogether. The lion 




himself would be 
laughed at if his name 
was poodle. Just im- 
agine any man starting 
in business with such 
a name ! And so the 
poodle, clever dog as 
he is, is never taken 
seriously for a moment 
— not for one moment, 
by anybody. Not so 
seriously, even, as the 
ladies' toy dogs, 
Though, indeed, little 
as they may seem to 
deserve it, they are 
taken very seriously 
indeed. How would you 
like to be judge of the 
ladies' toy dogs here ? ?T 
I should not have 
liked it at all, and I 
said so. My excellent 
wife is a strong minded 
woman, and usually 
desirous of having her 

own way, but I fear 

that in the Ladies' 

Kennel Association — 
u No," the brown man 

went on, " of course 

you wouldn't like it. 

You may talk about 

the Victoria Cross, and 

ill that sort of thing, 

if you like. But I want 

to know where will the adequate reward 

come from for the judge who has the courage 

to orckr the first lady out of the ring with 

her dog? Yes, there's a deal of credit due 


to the man who strolls 
calmly up to a cannon's 
mouth and stops it with 
his hat, or what not ; 
but what's that com- 
pared to the man who 
stands up fearlessly (or 
at least without show- 
ing fear), unarmed and 
defenceless, in the 
midst of thirty ladies 
of the Kennel Associ- 
ation, to select the best 
of their dogs ? One 
shudders to think of 
his situation. Just walk 
along here a bit, where 
the toy dogs are — the 
place that looks like a 
baby-linen shop full of 
cradles. Some of the 
cradles are adorned 
with roses* some with 
lilies of the valley, and 
all with silk bows and 
satin coverlets. Observe 
the ladies sitting on 
guard before them. Is 
there one whom you 
would care to face if 
she were thoroughly 
roused ? I think not. 
There are times, it is 
whispered, when these 
ladies -face each other, 
at association meetings, 
but on these occasions male persons are 
humanely excluded. It is pleasant to find 
that even these redoubtable ladies have a 
benevolent regard for the weaker sex." 

New '■■■ ''/A' 



Original from 





Whi> *)}& 


I remembered my clear wife's regard for 
me, her care in seeing me safely in nt the 
turnstile, her solicitude for the recovery of 
the shilling undiminished on my return, and 
1 felt glad that probably some other men had 
wives of equal solicitude and determination. 
There is a certain consolation in a reflection 
of that sort 

14 You remember what the bulldog said to 
us a little while ago," remarked the brown 
man, "about his mistress, and the wool 
boots, and the smelling-salts, and so on ? 
Well, some of these toy dogs get treated 
worse than that The shampooing, and the 
combing, and the oiling, and the tying-up 
with ribbons are enough to make any dog turn 
melancholy and refuse his food and his muzzle* 






That's where some of the ladies make a 
mistake* They try to breed up to the higher 
forms by attending to mere externals, bee 
how they tittivate a Yorkshire terrier, for 
instance. They plait a long tail from the 
back of its head and tie it with pink ribbon ; 
they brush and comb out its whiskers in 
front ; so that at first sight one gets a 
suggestion of Lord Dundreary, and t on 
going behind, another of a little girl at 
school. BQiiti cfb&t I dtofgnis a Yorkshire terrier 




all the time ; hell never 
get nearer evolution into 
a lord or a schoolgirl 
by all the brushing with 
all the brushes from all 
the shops in Oxford 
Street Just the same 
with the pug, You may 
put him in an embroi- 
dered layette, give him 
an eider-down quilt in 
a satin cover and a 
pillow edged with old 
point lace ; you may 
have a smelling-bottle 
close handy, you may 
perfume the room with 
pastilles, you may work 
him a little pocket just 
over his head to put his 
watch in, you may have 
a gold-end bell-pull in 
reach, and an expensive 
coral rattle with silver 
bells for him— but all 
that won't make him a 
baby. No. The ladies 
are in too great a hurry. 
We breeders who under- 
stand things arc con- 
tent with slow evolution 
through many genera- 
tions. The ladies, bless 
'em, are impatient, and 
want human develop- 
ment in a fortnight So, as they can't get it in 
essentials, they go in for appearances, and, 
having made their animal as human as 
possible as regards combing and brushing, 
and ribboning and beading, and -lacing and 
watch-pocketing and bell-roping, they try to 


the evolution 
accomplished. It won't 
do ; and, what is worse, 
it actually retards the 
development all we 
breeders are so anxious 
to promote, I think I 
told you how reluctant 
dogs were to be evo- 
luted. They believe 
themselves at the top of 
the tree already, and 
despise mere men and 
women, who are their 
servants and sham- 
po6ers. It's hard enough 
to get over these facts 
as • they are ; but when 
a pug feels himself be- 
tween silk sheets, under 
an eider-down quilt, with 
lace hangings, and smell- 
ing-bottle complete, is 
it likely that he will 
exert himself to develop 
into a creature like his 
owner, who is igno- 
miniously tailless, and 
acts as his common 
drudge? No, of course 
not But, there, that's 
enough. I expect the 
show will be over soon, 
and 1 must go and get 
some more coffee in my 
hat — it's been boiling away tremendously. Yes, 
the dogs are going— there's a row of Skye- 
terriers, with one visible eye between the lot, 
chained together to go home, Do you remem- 
ber the dogs in the story who ate their tickets 
and couldn't tell where they were going to?" 

,€t V T'i4J 


£"" 1 »1 J -^mb*"" - " ^^ // 


{ T& he continued.) 

Vol. Jtiii.— fl. 

by Google 

Original from 

Timber Titans. 

By George Dollar. 

GERMAN ship named Maria 
Hackfeld was lately dispatched 
from San Francisco to Ixmdon 
with a cross-section of a Cali- 
fornia redwood tree, consigned^ 
it is said, to Mr. William 
Waldorf Astor- The shipment is reported to 
be the result of a bet recently made by Mr, 
Astor, who, at a dinner party, told his English 
friends some astonishing stories about the 
size of the redwoods. Mr. Astor wagered 
that he could procure a cross-section of a 
redwood large enough to form a table for 
forty guests. This wager will undoubtedly be 
won with ease. The cross-section is aft. in 
thickness, showing the greater diameter of 
the tree to be 16ft, 6in + , and the smaller 
diameter 14ft. 11 in. The circumference is, 
therefore, about 52ft., which ought to 
accommodate forty average men without 

Odd to say, also, this section, notwith- 
standing its great 
size, is but ^ tiny 
thing, after all. 
Many redwoods 
in Cali fo rn i a 
measure 60ft. in 
and some have 
measured 75ft. 
These, again, are 
outstripped in 
size by the so- 
called "big 
trees" of the 
Calaveras and 
Mariposa groves, 
the like of which 
are seen in no 
other part of the 
world. Many 
English people 
know them only 
through whisky 
and wine adver- 
tisements, The 
irrepressible ad- 
vertising agent 
has> in fact, 
seized upon the 
very tree shown 
on this page, in 
order that public 
attention may be 
strongly drawn 
to the merits of 


the juicy Califomian grape. Others know of 
them through frequent visits to the Crystal 
Palace, where the bark of the grand old 
" Mother of the Forest," which measured 
90ft. in girth and 321ft in height, has been 
exhibited for years. 

Botanically speaking, both the redwoods 
and the t( big trees * are species of the genus 
Sequoia— a pretty name given to them in 
honour of Sequoyah, the Cherokee Indian 
who invented letters for his people. They 
are both natives of California, the redwoods 
being confined to the coast ranges and the 
11 big trees " to the western slopes of the 
Sierra Nevada Mountains. They are dis- 
tinguished by their peculiar fibrous bark and 
their rich colour of cinnamon brown. The 
redwood grows in such large quantities that 
it is a fit material for commerce, and the red- 
wood industry of Humboldt County, California^ 
where the trees abound, is enormous. The 
li big trees," on the other hand, are carefully 

guarded by the 
Gove rn me nt. 
The Mariposa 
Grove, which 
contains over 
seven hundred 
majestic trees, 
has been set 
apart by Con- 
gressas a national 
park, and the 
are able to resist 
the encroach- 
ments of every- 
thing except 
forest fires, 
which, at times, 
have sadly deci- 
mated and des- 
troyed the trees* 
Many of the 
trees are known 
throughout the 
world by charac 
teristic names 
given to them in 
honour of popu- 
lar heroes and 
favourites of the 
hour. A section 
of one of the 
fallen kings of 
the Mariposa 

/»M>. fro** tk* PaeiAc Wvlfmiw^ Hurt**. San 'piii&Hl^ ' 





Prom a Photo, by Underwood it Underwood, London, 

group is called " Chip of the Old 
Block," and our illustration gives 
but a faint idea of what the u old 
block " must have been in the day 
of its towering grandeur. Another 
tree, shown on the following page, 
has been called "Uncle Tom's 
Cabin," on account of the tent-like 
opening at its base— an opening in 
which the stalwart figure of a man 
is dwarfed. The most famous 
tree is called " Grizzly Giant," 
which is over 93ft. in circum- 
ference at the ground, and over 
64ft at a distance of 11 ft. from the 
base. It reaches a height of 200ft 
before throwing out a branch, and 
its first branch is 8ft in diameter. 
" Grizzly Giant " is the largest 
living tree in the world, and stands 
over 275ft high. These figures 
can, however, but barely suggest the 
mammoth girth of this celebrated 
sequoia, which people travel from 
all parts of the world to see. Nor 
can the visitor realize that it and 
its neighbours have been stand- 
ing for 2,500 years. Yet such is 
the estimated age of these forest 
giants. They were but bushes when 

The " big trees " were discovered in 
1852 by a white hunter named Dowd, 
who in that year found himself in the 
neighbourhood of Calaveras Grove. 
The date 1850 is carved on one 
of the trees, and this has led many 
people to think that the big trees had 
been visited previously to 1852. Since 
that time, the trees have been one 
of the remarkable natural "sights" 
of the United States. Botanists 
have quarrelled over the proper 
name to give them, and have esti- 
mated their age from the rings in the 
fallen logs. Cross-sections have been 
cut and forwarded to different parts 
of the country, in order that people 
might see for themselves that the 
stories of the " big trees " were true. 
In Boston, several years ago, one 
of these cross-sections was erected 
in a public square, and dances were 
held on its polished surface. The 
idea of using a tree for such a purpose 


NerO tlddled before burning Rome. rhftt o. from Uu PaciAc Mutating Bureau, San Fran. 


8 4 



in California, 
where a stump 
of one of the 
trees has bad a 
house built upon 
it, to serve as 
a ball room* 

A glance at 
our illustration 
of the prime- 
val re (I wo n<| 
forest in Hum 
boldt County, 
California, the 
first of several 
redwood photo- 
graphs lent to 
us by the Hum- 
boldt C ha in - 
ber of Com- 
merce, will give 
an idea of the 
massive trunks 
of these valuable 
trees, which 
stretch out for 

100 miles along the coast, *' not in sentinel black walnut, displace 
groves," according to ;i poetical writer, ki but in cypress and cedar for 


from a f "Anftx hg [Wifuwi «£ VwUn&nh London. 

one continuous 
belt — dense, 
stately, dark, 
and forbidding." 
The forests 
are apparently 
except through 
the axe of the 
woodsman, and 
this is wielded 
with care, The 
trees are never 
injured by fire. 
The wood resists 
com b u s tion, 
and is hard to 
burn even when 
dry. The red- 
wood is the only 
lumber that can 
take the place 
of the white 
pine, answer 
as a satisfactory 
substitute for 
mahogany and 
oak for redwood ties, 
shingles, and surpass 






to perish or even 
to die, but send 
forth shoots and 
sprouts which, if 
left undisturbed, 
would renew the 
forests in course of 

With such superb 
natural resources 
at hand, it is not 
strange that the 
redwood forests 
should resound 
with the cry of the 
lumberman and 
the crash of the 
falling tree. With 
these may be 
heard the grating 
of the saw as it 
cuts its swath 
through the heart 
of the tree, the 

From q Photo, bul 


lA. \¥- £riemm t ArraUit VuL 

att other woods for dura- 
bility when in contact with 
earth, or when exposed to 
moisture. These qualities 
make the redwood industry 
important to the builders 
of cities and homes, of rail- 
roads, flumes, and conduits, 
to those engaged in mining, 
manufacturing, and agri- 
culture all over the country. 
It is important to the con- 
sumers, and they should 
feel as gratified as do the 
people of Humboldt, that 
there is still a reserve forest 
containing 5 o> 000,000, oooft 
of timber, which can be 
utilized for so many pur- 
poses. Redwood will make 
an enduring foundation, 
solid walls, and an imperish- 
able roof. Thus it provides 
the substantial equipment 
for any structure. But k 
may be made to embellish 
and adorn the home, as well 
as shelter the inmates. As 
a finishing wood it is un- 
equalled, and for cabinet 
material some qualities of 
it are superior. Even the 
stumps, it is said, refuse 



i'hoto. from (*| 1'wiM i UvMii «Hn v Burtv 


. rj , j&cft Fnt*., f'til 





Fruut a Photo, b v A, W, Jfrvwm. Aimta, Cirt, 

steady click of the axe, the buzzing of fifty saw- 
mills in the neighbourhood, and the pufT of 
powerful locomotives engaged in pulling the 
heavy logs out of the woods. It is a scene of 
eternal hurry in the very heart of Nature, 

In order to cut down the trees, the chop- 
pers stand on platforms raised around the 
tree at some little distance from the base- 
The steady movement of the axe makes a 
quick impression on the massive timber, but 
it sometimes takes two weeks for two men to 
start the tree on its crashing fall to the ground. 
Most of the unskilled labourers of the county 
are employed in felling, although even thisclass 
of work, requires a special amount of skill 

The great bulk and weight of redwood logs, 
and the fact that operations in the logging 
regions are in progress only during summer 
months and the absence of snow, make lum- 
bering in Humboldt differ from the methods 
used elsewhere* The character of the coun- 

try, mostiy rugged, also in- 
troduces a distinct element 
into logging operations. 
Ingenuity combined with 
capital has intervened, and 
almost every extensive red- 
wood mill-plant in Hum- 
boldt includes several miles 
of railroad, with locomo- 
tives, cars, and other equip- 
ments for transporting logs 
and lumber, numerous 
donkey -engines for hauling 
logs out into the road, 
several miles of electric 
wire with instruments to 
supply telephone service to 
the remotest camps and 
connect them with the mill 
and yard, and, in many 
cases, a system of wire cable 
on the endless chain prin- 
ciple, with stationary engine 
to "snake" the logs to the railway landing. 
Oxen are still used in some camps, and it is 
an interesting sight to watch a long string of 
tugging oxen toiling down through the hills 
amid a cloud of dust, the logs after them 
like a gigantic snake. 

A redwood is ready for the donkey-engine 
as soon as it has been sawed into sections. 
Chains and ropes are then attached to the 
log, and it is drawn through the forest towards 
the plat form -cars or trolleys, upon which it is 
deposited. In the illustration at the top of 
this page we may see one of these mammoth 
sections in position on the car. When all 
the cars are loaded in this manner, they are 
made up into a train and attached to a power- 
ful locomotive. 

A not uncommon sight in the redwood 
region, but one which, to strangers, would 
appear remarkable, is illustrated at the bottom 
of this page, where we get a full view of a 

From a rhofa frjr] 


eowoqp loos, " Id. W* Sri 


IF. L\ ici.-n, Cnl 




Photo, from} 

A LOGGING CHUTE. \\ T*« PacilU /fltftfnrtinj I lurea h. San /'rail,, VuL 

train-load of twenty-four redwood logs wind- 
ing slowly from among the hills. 

By many lumbermen in California the 
rivers are u*ed with great effect in the trans- 
port of logs. In the summer the logs are 
dumped into the bed of the stream to await 
a winter freshet, which carries the mass along 
with great speed to the mills, where they lie 
until they are ready to be sawed 

The greater part of the logs, however, are 
transported by the railways direct to the side 
of the river or 
pond, and there 
shot into the water 
by means of in- 
clined ways made 
of other logs. 
The logs dash 
down with great 
swiftness, and 
enter the water 

with a huge splash, 

casting the spray 

high into the air 

with the force 

almost of a tor- 
pedo explosion. 

The illustrations 

on this page show 

a log -chute and 

the magnificent 

column of water 

sent up by the 

diving log. 
From the log- 

pond to the saw -mill is usually but a 
step. In some mills the logs are pulled up 
on small cars ; in others, they are drawn 
up on greased ways by means of long 
cables. In the forest of the Bridal Veil 
Lumbering Company, at Bridal Veil, in 
Oregon, the logs are transferred to the mill 
by means of a curious railway, illustrated on 
the following page. The train, so-called, is 
made up of an ordinary locomotive and a 
string of logs, each one as lar^e in diameter 

i>ivino LuCriqinal from 




Bit tourtaj of " Camera Jfajnnufc** JO,™? a PAoto. fry tfrwsuitf. AtrttovJ, Or&vn. 

and some even larger than the boiler of the 
engine. Boards are nailed to the sleepers 
between the rails, and on these the logs slide. 
Exeept on descending grades, the boards are 
greased, and the train moves at good speed. 
Where the road is level or slightly ascend- 
ing the engine pulls the logs, and where it is 
descending it holds them back. At the mills of 
the company the manufactured lumber, regard- 
less of sue, is run into a flume, and this is 
carried about two miles to the planing-mill 
and shipping yard, the flume descending 
about 1,200ft. in that distance. 

One of the great items of expense in the 
lumber business is the cost of transportation 
from the forests to the consumer. Huge 

sums which might otherwise have been left 
in the pockets of householders have been 
placed in the coffers of railway and steamship 
companies. It was in order to lessen the 
cost of transport that the cigar-shaped log- 
raft was designed. These extraordinary 
rafts, of which we give five excellent 
illustrations, are the invention of Mr, 
Hugh R. Robertson, of St. John, New 
Brunswick. The first raft was built at 
Joggins, in Nova Scotia, and on account of 
its novelty quickly gained the nickname of 
the "Joggins raft." It was built in 1887, 
and its dimensions, of which a fair idea is 
given in the illustration below, were : length, 
560ft* ; depth, 35ft. It took several months 


1*.. j»* *». , .^^^^^^ MICHIGAN 



T 1 1 Ji JOT }i i I HS HA FT F KOM UfcN KA'I 3 \ , S HO H I N t J SU l K il t K TS, 
/^ro»i « rhfrtu. by Mr- Jr Fra&r Gregory St. Jotm* Near lifuntibick* 

to build, and was composed of several 
hundred thousand logs, closely bound together 
in a cradle of logs, which rested upon timber 
foundations. The raft was pointed at one 
end, and lay on the shore slant- wise in 
order that it might be quickly and easily 
launched. During the process of construc- 
tion the inventor was much laughed at, but, 
nothing daunted in his scheme, he launched 
the raft and dispatched it to New York in 
tow, The first jogt;ins raft, however, quickly 

bore out the prophecies of Mr. Robertson's 
opponents, and came to grief in the wild and 
wintry Atlantic. The hawser which attached 
it to the tug was snapped by the force of the 
waves, the raft burst in pieces, and the huge 
logs, winch represented many thousand 
pounds in gold, were rapidly distributed over 
the surface of the Atlantic, to the deep chagrin 
(if the inventor, and the danger of mariners. 

Notwithstanding this accident, the joggins 
raft had really come to stay, A second raft 


J[rtj*i|NS HAH. 

V.iL \iv.--12 


l'n>w ;t P&qta ''.■</ Jfr. ,/. Ft a* 


9 o 



Photo, front (Ae Facific lllititratintf Bnrtan, San Fran,, CaL 

was quickly built in co-opera lion with Mr, J, 
D. 1 ,eary, and sent to New York, a distance 
of 700 miles, in ten days* where the lumber 
of which it was made was, sold at a profit 
enormous in itself, and yet at a price remark- 
able for cheapness. The much -derided 
inventor made a fortune, and, selling 
his idea to Mr. Leary, left for the Pacific 
Coast, where he is engaged to this day in 

transporting lumber by means of cigar- 
shaped rafts with wonderful success. Our 
last two illustrations show the side and top 
view of one of these rafts lately built on the 
Columbia Riven Its value was ^£9,000, and 
its length 528ft, with the width of 52ft. and 
a draught of 24ft The heavy chains, which 
are so plainly seen in the illustration, inclose 
560,000 lineal feet of timber 


PAj&k from the Padjie flluMraiiiw Hurta^ San 



By William G. FitzGerald. 

OTHING can he more certain 
than that parody and travesty 
will follow a big boom in the 
entertainment world. And 
provided that the parody is 
really funny and clever, there 
is money in it When the "strong man" 
craze was at its height, a certain relatively 
humble comedian conceived a really delight- 
ful and original idea. His only child -a 
sweet little girl of four or five years — was one 
day found alone in 
her bedroom doub- 
ling up her chubby 
right arm, lifting her 
tattered doll high 
into the air with 
tremendous pomp 
and circumstance, 
arid generally giving 
an irresistible 
44 strong man " show 
before a full-length 
mirror, with preter- 
natural, big-eyed 
gravity. The father 
thought that if his 
baby-girl could give 
a similar show in 
public it would prove 
a great attraction. 
It did. And yet 
there was, after all, 
absolutely nothing in 
the thing ; the infant 
went through certain 
motions in imitation 
of the orthodox 
strong man \ and 
the people literally 
howled with delight 
— particularly as the 
tiny mimic's turn followed that of the real 

This leads up to the "strong man " parody 
devised by Mr. Tom Woottwell, than whom 
no funnier fellow exists* The show indicated 
in the photo, here reproduced was scream- 
ingly comic. First, as to the costume of the 
mock " strong man." He is dressed in 
dilapidated old tights, which are supposed to 
be strained almost to bursting point at the 
arms and calves, owing solely to the abnormal 


muscular development of those parts. The 
calves are particularly funny — far less sinew 
than sawdust, however, 

And observe the showman's leer as he 
strikes an attitude for the great feat of break- 
ing a thick iron chain on the u muscles Ir of 
his arm. " Keep your eye on me, and you'll 
be astonished/' he is saying. You w T ould 
be, by the way, if you saw the next si age of 
the show. The man's mighty arm bends 
slowly but surely \ his breath comes quick 

and short, and at 
the supreme moment 
the chain snaps 
asunder with an ex- 
traordinary uproar 
and flies right up 
into the wings — 
hauled up there, of 
course, by invisible 

The terrible strain 
proves too much for 
the great man ; it 
" knocks the stuffin* 
out of him " — liter- 
ally, for suddenly 
the " muscles " col- 
lapse and a thin 
stream of sawdust 
trickles on to the 
stage, leaving the 
audience convulsed 
with laughter. 

The wonderful con- 
volutions of which 
the human body is 
possible have already 
been dealt with in 
these articles. But 
it has been found 
that no matter how 
astounding may be the postures assumed, 
the ordinary contortionist show is apt to 
pall upon the fickle public Therefore, 
of course, there arises an artist who devises 
an absolutely novel show. Here he is — 
41 Marinelli, the Man Snake," and premier 
contortionist of the world, The extraordi- 
nary performance of this lf reptile " is a 
veritable nightmare— a suggestion of Mr. H. 
G. Wells's wildest flight of scientific extrava- 
gance. The mooter rears aloft his awful head, 


9 i 



Frcm a Fh0ti>. bg Fq± Btchcrtr. Munich- 

emitting horrible sounds hitherto unknown 
among the invertebrates ; he drags his 
slow length erratically alonjj; the stage, 
and then suddenly coils himself up, twisting 
backwards and forwards like a mad 

Marinelli was once responsible for a 
pretty bill of damages. He was re- 
hearsing by himself at a great theatre- 
circus in Frankfort one day, when a 
troupe of performing animals — ele- 
phants and horses chiefly — unex- 
pectedly entered the ring, also for 
rehearsal purposes. The moment the 
animals set eyes on the huge "snake," 
they stampeded madly, literally bring- 
ing down the house with them. Fortu- 
nately, the only audience consisted of 
a few porters and trainers. Three 
valuable horses were so injured in the 
rush, however, that they had to be 
shot, and two elephants got out into 
the streets in a state of the wildest 
terror. And all this because the 
Human Pythons silken and tinselled 
skin looked so dreadfully natural, to 
say nothing about his terrifying con- 

Trick- cycling shows we are all 
familiar with. Some crack experts ride 
tricycles, and others bicycles. There 
are others, again, who, contemning a 
multiplicity of wheels, perform all their 
wonderful feats on one solitary wheel, 
with which they seem able to do any 
conceivable thing. M. Noiset, how- 
ever, the trick cyclist whom we have 
chosen for this article, has gone still 

higher (or is it lower?) in the 
scale. He rides half a wheel! 
Of course* the angles are not 
sharp, but rounded. No one 
ever heard tell of round 
angles, perhaps, but then our 
cyclist*s performance is like- 
wise unique. You will notice 
that the machine is provided 
with unusually long and power- 
ful cranks, which {to say 
nothing about the back-pedal- 
ling necessary) are very requi- 
site for the forward movement, 
when the half-circle has run 
its course, and the flat side 
is about to come down on 
to the ground. This young 
J artiste, when touring across 
Europe and America in the 
various variety theatres, always 
contrived to get up public races between 
himself and the local professional scorcher, 
invariably stipulating, however, for a nicely 
calculated start. They have wonderful 






From a Photograph* 

business instinct, these fellows ! Of course, 
tYris sort of thing created no end of interest 

and amusement, and made everybody agog 

to visit the theatre-circus and see the "semi- 
cyclist" go through the whole of his show. 

But fancy a race at 

Heme Hill between 

our interesting young 

friend and Mr Shor- 

land or Mr Stocks ! 
The next interesting 

show to be dealt with 

is that given by Mdlle. 

Mazello Rose and her 

marvellous performing 

pigeons and doves. 

Bird shows, as a rule, 

are the dullest of enter- 
tainments — a vast 

quantity of glittering 

apparatus ("made in 

(iermany ") and a few 

mournful cockatoos 

going round and round 

under obvious protest 

and because they can't 

help it. Mdlle, Rose's 

show, however, is very different. Her 
pigeons are the quaintest little beggars 
imaginable , and can perform everything 
that dogs perform. An acrobatic pigeon 
sounds staggering, but these birds stand 
in rows and tumble at the word of com- 
mand. They also have a kind of fair 
all to themselves, with swings, see-saws, 
and roundabouts, all going busily. 

Finally, there is a sort of pantomime 
— a house on Are, lurid stage, miniature 
engines and escapes, and a gallant rescue 
by the perky bird seen on the lady's left, 
nearest her face. "Their intelligence 
is almost human," remarked the agent 
to me, almost tearfully, as be was des- 
cribing the show; "and I believe," he 
added, somewhat iuconsequently, sink- 
ing his voice impressively — " I believe 
she talks to them in pidgin-English/ 5 

The evolution of the under-water show 
was very gradual. Years ago, if a pro- 
fessional swimmer went into a glass- 
fronted tank of water (heated overnight) 
and then leered at the audience for one 
minute, he was hailed as a very Titan 
among entertainers. Then came more 
or less graceful passes, kiss-waftings, and 
gesticulations, which also impressed 
people mightily. Later on, some original 
fellow thought of tricks under water- 
picking up coins with the mouth, skip- 
ping, passing through a hoop, eating, and the 
like. The subaqueous drama depicted in our 
photo., however, is of quite recent date- The 
dramatis per so me are Professor Beaumont 
and his two daughters. This tragedy under 

by V. 



From a Photo, fa* JfiltfJU '^djik'-^kd^dwi. 




so well does the photograph explain it 
At the same time one may demonstrate 
the apparent impossibility of the thing 
by taking two canes and two ordinary 
felt hats and trying the feat for oneself. 
This artist belongs to that class of Conti- 
nental performers which makes it a prac- 
tice to sandwich in between grotesque 
foolery many exceedingly difficult and fine 
feats of balancing and dexterity. These, 
in fact, sometimes miss fire t and go 
unappreciated by superficial observers, 
owing to the seemingly careless and airy 
manner in which they are executed, and 
the comicalities with which their accom- 
plishment is interlarded. 

The nest curious show to figure in 
this article is the one given by Alphon- 
shie, the " Premier Spiral Ascensionist.' 7 
It is only at big places of entertainment 


IlVek atti-:mi : t i-.i>. 
From a Photo, by Q- H?H Mario, Ccnrfijr 

water, as played by the troupe of 
professional swimmers here shown, is 
a most touching business. I am 
assured that during the performance 
there is "not a dry eye in the audi- 
ence." I can well believe it The 
players themselves, even, are a trifle 
damp. You see, the idea is that the 
heart-broken father, mad with grief 
at the death of his wife, and seeing 
his two daughters suffering the tor- 
ments of slow starvation, resolves to 
take the lives of the hapless girls. It 
is not made clear why the family 
should be in this state of destitution, 
though their wardrobe certainly, and 
of csurse, necessarily, is rather scanty. 
However, the whole point of the 
thing lies in the fact that the drama 
is played under water, and that within 
three minutes. At the end of this 
time a moving object-lesson in resur- 
rection is given, and father and 
daughters retire in the lime -light, 
snorting a little after their long 

One of the original (iirards is next 
depicted, having been photographed 
in the very act of performing one of 
the most difficult balancing feats that 
can possibly be performed. Comment 
upon this feat is a little superfluous, 



ft 1 n 





— — like the Royal Aquarium (where the ac- 
companying photo, was- taken) and the Crystal 
Palace— that this lady can give her show, 
for her apparatus is extensive, besides being 
peculiar. The manner of the ascent is 
sufficiently obvious. A pole, fully iooft high, 
is firmly fixed, having at its apex a small 
circular platform, or rest, 2ft, or 3ft. in 
diameter ; this is the ultimate goal of the 
" ascension ist" The spiral pathway is next 
erected about the pole^ and stayed from 
it by means of light steel girders. This 
curious roadway commences at the floor end 
with a slight inclined plane. Here is placed 
the ball, a hollow wooden one, about 2ft. 
in diameter. When everything is ready the 
lady appears ; so 
does the lime- 
light — that abso- 
lute sine qua non 
of the sensational 
show, Madame 
jumps on the 
ball, and simply 
impels it up the 
spiral way by a 
series of more 
or less graceful 
prances and jerks 
with her slip- 
pered feet. She 
stops at various 
stages of her 
curious journey, 
os ten si hi y to 
salute her ad- 
miring audience 
and challenge 
their applause, 
but really to have 
a moment's rest, 
for it is terribly 
hard work. One 
grieves to hear 

that Madame has had some bad accidents, 
Once — fortunately just whe« she had reached 
the extreme summit— the entire spiral way 
collapsed, leaving one to wonder, as in the 
case of the fly in the amber, how the lady 
" got there.'* This accident was due to the 
defective fastening of one of the stay-rods. 
Several times the ball has left the perilous 
track — jumped the narrow ribbon of iron 
that protects the edge of the spiral pathway. 
On such occasions Madame has been more 
or less seriously hurt 

Alaska and Laure, who appear in our 
next production j are two grotesque French 
comedians; they sing, dance, knock each other 

snsNJNt; THE 

about, and generally work very hard, The 
funniest, as well as the most original, item in 
their stage " business " is the one depicted 
in the photograph we have reproduced. This 
is the "Boy with the Human Top," The 
" Human Top/' if you take the trouble to 
turn him right side up, looks as if he 
thoroughly enjoyed the situation, On the 
stage his head usually rests in a sort of 
wooden cap, padded, and revolving on a well- 
oiled ball-and-socket arrangement His 
legs are sometimes spread out, his hands 
always ; this is in order that he may spin 
readily and long. The owner of the Top — 
the " Boy," that is — occasionally spins his 
human plaything with his hands, but more 

often than not 
he winds around 
the Top's body 
about 50ft of 
Presently he pulls 
this, and the Hu- 
man Top begins 
to gyrate, slowly 
at first, but later 
on with dizzy 
rapidity, It is an 
automatic Top—, 
one that greatly 
helps its owner 
in the sport As 
a fact, the Top 
can spin himself, 
but not for long. 
Besides, the pre- 
sence of the Boy 
and the action 
of the clothes- 
line — these are 
essential to the 
success of the 

The next pho- 
tograph reproduced shows Moung-Toon, one 
of the most wonderful jugglers that the East 
has produced. As might be supposed from 
his name, Moung is a Burman ; and the 
story of his evolution as a showman is 
interesting. It seems the Burmese are bom 
jugglers ; they juggle with everything, even 
their finances and their police. Well, Moung 
was as a boy very fond of juggling, and he 
proceeded to perfect himself in several of the 
ordinary native school pastimes that were 
the delight of young Rangoon. 

One day the inevitable entertainment 
agent arrived, among the pagodas and soon 
got togethQ^BifllTCT'ffhtive jugglers, mainly 



9 6 


From a Photo, by F. Cooptr, llartetilt*. 

on behalf of one of the great London 
exhibitions. Now, Moung was among 
these, but after one season in England, 
he devised new feats for himself, and 
then severed his connection with the 
troupe, The result was that he made 
heaps of money, bought costly apparatus 
for himself, and aspired to a dresser of 
his own race. Why he should want a 
dresser is not obvious from the photo. ; 
still, Moung saw it was the correct thing 
among tl 1ml; '' men, and besides, it was 
nice and convenient to have someone to 
hand up the balls and so forth. 

The amazing part of Moung's show 
was that he never touched with his hands 
the things which he Juggled, He used 
glacs balls and balls made of strips of 
cane. These he would pick up from the 
floor with his prehensile toes and balance 
upon his instep. A jerk, and the ball 
was upon his knee ; another, and it was 
on his shoulder. Then he would place 
a second ball on his other shoulder in 
the same way. By a quick movement of 
his body, the juggler would next cause 
the balls to rise in the air and 

his back ; but before they could reach 
the ground, he had knelt down and 
received thein on the backs of his knee- 

What is virtually the foremost animal 
show of the world is given by Mr. 
Seeth's forest-bred lions. Seeth himself, 
who can command the handsome salary 
°f j£ 1 5° a week, is seen in the accom- 
panying curious photo, with a full-grown 
lion on his shoulders, One of the most 
curious items in the show is a big 
" merry-go-round," manned by lions, 
and pulled round by a pretty little 
pony, Each lion squats grumpily in a 
miniature sailing ship, and protests from 
time to time at the futility of the whole 
business. Mr, Seeth also drives liis lions 
(which are really magnificent brutes) in 
a specially built chariot ; and as he 
himself is attired as a Greek hero, the 
ensemble makes a very striking picture. 
Seeth is a powerful and fearless man, 
both of these qualities being evidenced 
by our photograph. 

Little Zeretto, the child acrobat de- 
picted in the accompanying illustration, 
is a remarkable example of the pliability 
of the human frame. Much nonsense 
has been written and spoken about the 

m behind 

Ant. si-:kih, nirri unb.u*- Hit* m^hokjiim: Ltos^ 

Frtun a I A \aUi. 


S2DESH0 W$. 



FntmaPhob) bit Harry A. Wtbb, PAOadtlf&ia. 

cruelty which enters into the training of 
singe children. Always providing that their 
trainers commence with the children at a 
very early age, it is not only possible gradually 
to make the little ones perform astounding 

acrobatic and cither feats, but the young- 
sters themselves get to love their calling 
and take an interest in it, and in the 
devising of new items of business. 

The child that figures in this photo, is 
positively as supple as ever it is possible 
to become. You will observe that the 
tamboureen is held by the rtiother as 
high as the little girl can reach. Well, 
she is able to touch this with either foot 
— surely the uttermost limit of the lii^h 
kick ! 

We now come to an entirely different 
form of entertainment, after the manner 
of the late Chevalier Blondin — with 
variations. In the accompanying photo- 
graph we see the Brothers Welch man n 
performing the "Human Wheelbarrow n 
feat on a rope noft. high and 200ft 
long. This is, of course, an open-air 
show, and one requiring a net that weighs 
nearly a ton. The rope, it will be seen, 
is steadied with guy -ropes from both 
sides. The Brothers Weichmann have a 
pretty original show. Besides the Human 
Wheelbarrow feat seen in the photo., they 
go through amusing and even startling 
antics as man-monkeys and kangaroos, 
effecting a complete change of costume 
and character on the high rope, possibly 
over a wide river at some country fete or 
For this they receive from ^80 to 
^ioo on each occasion. Everything that is 
requisite for the performance of the various 
feats is kept in the aerial box or refuge seen 
to the right in the photograph. 


Vd. xiv.- 13- 

Fvvm a] 




Original from 

A Railway Adventure. 

From the German of Dr. Max Nordau. 


HE windows of the crowded 
cafe had been thrown open, 
and the fresh, cool air of the 
spring night struggled for 
mastery with the dose tobacco- 
laden atmosphere which filled 
the large hall. 

A glance out into the night showed the 
deep-blue heaven overhead and a brilliant 
full moon j whose cold, clear rays sparkled on 
the fresh foliage of the budding trees as they 
swayed gently to and fro in the light breeze, 
The members of the society to which I at 
this time belonged had been accustomed 
for some time past to reserve a certain 
table in the cafe for themselves, where 
they met every evening to chat over and 
discuss the events of the passing hour. 
They were, for the most part, respectable 
citizens, who had far more appreciation for 

Nature, On the night I am speaking of, 
our conversation was of a prosaic enough 
character, as was only natural in a small 
town, and exhausted itself in discussions 
about local matters, the theatre, taxes, and 
similar— to an outsider— extremely uninterest- 
ing topics* 

Through some chance remark, however, 
which I can no longer recall, the queslion 
had sprung up if it were really credible that 
a man's hair could suddenly become grey in 
consequence of a violent shock to the mind. 
Some of those present were only half 
inclined to disbelieve this somewhat start- 
ling theory, whilst others could not be 
sufficiently scathing in the remarks they 
made concerning people who were simple 
enough to place any credence in such 
nursery tales. 

As the discussion grew warmer and warmer, 

I V- s 



bright gas-light and a good dinner than for 
the charms of a glorious spring night, and 
nothing was further removed from their 
thoughts on this particular occasion than a 
romantic contemplation of the beauties of 

Digged by Gt 

until every member of our party was engaged 
either in championing or combating the 
question in point, a man, seated near us, 
rose slowly, pushing his chair from him, and 
approached ■-our: | toble^ n He was a fine, tall 




fellow, of herculean build, and his intelligent 
features, which bore an expression of great 
determination, were rendered very striking 
by a pair of keen blue eyes ; but what made 
his appearance still more remarkable was 
the fact that both his hair and beard were 
a* white as snow, although they surrounded 
a countenance which would not permit 
one to reckon his age at more than about 

" Excuse me, gentlemen, if I am interrupt- 
ing your conversation," he remarked, bowing 
politely to. all of us. "You were just dis- 
cussing a subject that has more than an 
ordinary interest for me. I happen myself 
to be a living proof that, under certain 
circumstances, a terrible shock to the mind 
.can produce that self-same physical effect of 
which you were just speaking, and which the 
majority of you seem to discredit." 

These words naturally excited the curiosity 
of all present to the highest degree. We 
quickly made room for our new acquaintance 
at the table, and, when he had seated himself 
comfortably, urged him to relate to us the 
circumstances which had produced such a 
strange and sudden change in his appearance. 
The stranger feigned no great shyness, and 
acquiesced in the most pleasant manner 
possible by relating to us the following : — 

" If any of you gentlemen have ever 
interested yourselves more closely in Ameri- 
can affairs, the name of Auburn cannot 
well be strange to you ; it denotes much the 
same for the United States as Spielberg does 
for Austria. You must not picture Auburn 
to yourselves merely as a gloomy and extensive 
prison — as one large, solitary building— no ! 
It is rather an entire colony of criminals, a 
sort of town or metropolis for the wretches 
that the community has thrust out. 

" Shut in by immense walls, which rise up 
from the level plain to a considerable height, 
are crowded together a large number of 
detached buildings— houses that contain the 
prison-cells, warders' dwellings, hospital, and 
workshops — all sullen and forbidding-looking; 
and here and there dotted about may be seen 
a small patch of grass, a few trees, and, very 
occasionally, a flower-bed, like the last lingering 
recollections of innocent childhood amongst 
the black thoughts of a criminal. 

" Certain events, which would have but 
little interest for you, had led to my journey- 
ing from Hamburg — my birthplace — to 
America, immediately after the completion 
of my studies, and, after a short stay in New 
York, I accepted the post of prison-doctor at 
Auburn, which, as you perhaps know, is 

by V_ 



situated in the State of New York. I was 
intrusted with the medical supervision over 
that part of the prison which was set apart 
for the worst class of criminals — men, or I 
should say human hyenas, whose blood, as 
Mephistopheles says, had already ceased to 
be 'a fluid of rare quality.' 

" Two of these wretches were destined 
to spend the remainder of their days 
in the prison, and they, by reason of their 
great physical strength as well as by the 
extraordinary cunning they had evinced in 
several desperate attempts to regain their 
freedom, were subjected to even closer super- 
vision than the rest of their companions. I 
was an object of particular hatred and dislike 
to these two scoundrels, because I had been 
instrumental in the discovery of a number 
of iron implements which they — God only 
knows how they had obtained possession of 
them ! — had concealed under their clothes ; 
and again on another occasion because I had 
refused to receive them into the hospital when 
they had feigned illness, expecting doubtless 
when they were once in there that they 
would find more favourable opportunities for 
accomplishing their escape. The ruffians 
were separated and placed in remote parts 
of the prison, and were laden with chains ; 
but in spite of all these precautions, one fine 
morning the one, and a few days later the 
other, together with their chains, had dis- 
appeared without leaving a trace behind 

" It must have been almost a fortnight 
after the flight of these two criminals, which 
had caused the utmost consternation amongst 
the authorities at Auburn, that I ordered my 
horse one afternoon, and started off for a 
ride to Cayuga Bridge. It was mid-day 
when I reached the end of my journey, and 
I stood still for some time contemplating 
with silent delight the exquisite scenery 
which lay stretched out for miles before me. 
The Cayuga Lake, one of those which, 
together with Lake Erie, compose that vast 
system of inland seas in the State of New 
York, lay in all its beauty at my feet. The 
long, slender streak of silver wound in and 
out of the rugged black cliffs which hemmed 
it in, and which rose sheer up out of the 
lake, facing each other like grim opponents 
who had for thousands of years bid one 
another defiance. Far down the lake, which 
is forty miles long, and at this particular 
spot about one broad, I could discern the 
enormous trestle-bridge, a marvel of American 
engineering skill, which carries the Auburn 
division of the New York Central Railway 




across, passing on its way through the 
small station of Cayuga Bridge. 

"My business in the village was soon 
finished, and towards evening I started home 
again* Do you know how delightful a ride 
on a summer's evening is ? Cayuga Bridge 
is surrounded by extensive oak forests, 
through which the greater part of my journey 
lay. The gnarled and massive trunks cast 
long shadows, and the foliage rustled so 

and seemed to kindle their edges into 

"Suddenly I was startled out of my reverie 
by a slight noise which appeared to come 
from the undergrowth on either side of the 
road. Turning sharply round, I grasped 
my revolver, but in the same moment I 
received a stunning blow on the back of my 
head, which knocked me senseless from my 
saddle, Once more I recollect opening my 



gently in the soft evening breeze, that one 
seemed rather to feel than to hear it. As 
I rode between these giants of the forest, 
sweet recollections of my distant home crept 
into my heart, and, sunk in my thoughts, 
I let the reins fall on my horse's neck, who 
trotted steadily forward. I admired the 
marvellous variety of colour that the rays of 
the setting sun produced as they shone 
through the mass of dark -green leaves, 

by Google 

eyes, and thinking that I could see indistinctly 
one of the escaped criminals bending over 
me, and then all became a blank, 

" It must have been late in the night when 
consciousness again returned to me. Slowly 
opening my eyes, I saw far above me the 
dark blue vault of the sky, and the full moon 
shining brightly, A dull, painful sensation 
at the back of my head prompted me to 
place my hand there^ and 1 then discovered 



I 01 

that I was bound hand and foot. Gradually 
I collected my thoughts ; I remembered now 
the murderous attack in the forest y and a 
fearful foreboding flashed through my inind, 
which almost caused my heart to stand still, 
I Felt that I was laid across two sharp parallel 
projections, which cut into my shoulders and 
the back of my legs, causing me intense pain, 
arvd far below me I could hear the gentle 
plashing of water 

" Heavens ! there could no longer be 
any doubt : I was lying stretched across 
Cayuga Bridge, bound, incapable of 
moving an inch, with the hideous and 
absolutely certain prospect of being cut 
literally to pieces by the next train that 

child. I made mad endeavours to roll my* 
self into another position, and then recollected 
that a careless movement might precipitate 
me into the flood below — bound hand and 
foot, to sink like a stone ! 

" A shudder ran through my frame, and I 
lay motionless again ; but not for long, for the 
light of the great— almost fearfully bright — 
moon overhead, the ripple of the water deep 
below me, the breeze that came in light puffs, 
and then died away again, giving place to a 
death-like stillness, occasionally broken by 
the scream of some distant night-bird— all 
was unbearable, and caused me the anguish 
of death. And then the rails ! the rails ! 
My thoughts were torturing me, and yet I 


passed. For the second time that night I 
almost swooned as I realized my situation ; 
but by a powerful effort of will I recovered 
myself, and tugged desperately at the ropes 
that bound me until they cut almost into my 
muscles ; I shrieked, and wept finally like a 

Digitized by GOOQIC 

could not escape them. The wooden beams 
of the bridge vibrated perceptibly from the 
movement of the water below, and I thought 
that I could already feel the approach of the 
train, and my hair bristled with the horror of 
it The breeze now blew somewhat stronger, 




and I imagined that I could already hear, far 
away in the distance, the puffing and panting 
of the locomotive, and my heart stood still, 
to beat with redoubled force the next 

"There are certain things, gentlemen, 
which are absolutely incomprehensible to 
me : one of them is the fact that I was able 
to survive that night. One thought stood 
ever clear in my mind : I must endeavour by 
some means to shift my position — if possible, 
to one between the metals — if I did not wish, 
possibly even in the next moment, to become 
the prey of the most awful death one could 
conceive. And I succeeded ! I strained 
every muscle, every sinew, till I could strain 
no more. I wound and twisted myself, 
and panted until I thought my head must 
burst, and after superhuman exertions, which 
appeared to last an eternity, and perhaps 
lasted but a minute, I found myself in the 
hollew between the rails. 

" Was I saved ? I had no time to consider 
that, or to rejoice over the fresh chance of 
life which was now offered to me, for my 
whole being concentrated itself in intent 
listening. Far away in the distance I could 
now hear — first of all indistinctly, and then 
gradually increasing as it drew nearer and 
nearer — the regular, monotonous panting 
which heralds the approach of a locomotive. 
The fearful stillness of the night gave way, as 
each minute passed, to the more fearful noise, 
to the clanking and thundering of the engine 
as it raced on towards me at the headlong 
speed of American trains. Now a thousand 
feet more— now five hundred — all the horrors 
of hell possessed me ; but I lay without 
moving a muscle. Once, indeed, I tried to 
scream. I could no longer hear my own 

voice ; how, then, could the people in the train 
be expected to hear me? And now for an 
immeasurably short space of time a blaze of 
light beat down upon me, and a blast of hot 
air rushed over me, then everything became 
dark, and I heard a thunder as if the heavens 
were crashing in. Close, quite close, at 
scarcely a hairbreadth's distance, rushed the 
enormous mass over me. I was saved ! 

" Already half- unconscious, I was still 
sensible of a deafening clattering and roaring 
above me, and I saw shadow-like masses 
flying past ; still one moment more of deadly 
anguish — one of the coupling-hooks, hanging 
somewhat lower than the rest, had caught 
and dragged me several yards, tearing finally 
a large piece out of the breast of my coat — 
then all objects seemed to whirl around me, 
the moon, the bridge, and the lofty cliffs, 
in one mad dance, and I became insensible. 

" When I next woke, I found myself in 
my own bed, and around me well-known 
faces. And now to be brief: I had been 
found on the morning after that awful night 
by a platelayer who had recognised me, and 
had brought me back to Auburn. For a 
fortnight I lay delirious with brain fever, 
hovering between life and death ; but my 
strong constitution pulled me through. The 
first time after my recovery that I had 
occasion to use a looking-glass, I saw what 
traces those moments had left on me." 

The doctor ceased speaking ; but his pale 
face, the look of horror, and the great beads 
of sweat on his forehead all showed how 
keen his recollection was of that terrible 
experience. We also had listened to his 
narrative with breathless attention, and it 
was some time before we could shake off the 
impression it had left upon us. 

by Google 

Original from 

From Behind the Speakers Chair, 



THERE still linger round the 
the reign Houses of Parliament traces of 
of terror* the terror that reigned twelve 
years ago after the explosion in 
the Crypt, following at no long distance of 
time from the more serious outrage that 
shook the offices of the Local Government 
Board at Whitehall Something like a state 
of siege was declared within the precincts of 
the Houses of Parliament. The police 
garrison was more than doubled* The 
railings of Palace Yard formed the limit of 
approach. Respectable persons halting for 
a moment in passing to look within became 
objects of dire suspicion to the watchful 
pol ice, T he very messengers running between 
the newspaper offices and the Press Gallery 
were numbered and labelled, and required to 
display their authority before passing the 
cordon of police. 

Up to this period of panic West- 
minster Hall remained, though 
in somewhat restricted conditions, 
what it had ever been, a posses- 
sion and a thoroughfare for the 
people. In " B a ma by Rudge " 


JfuXiMi an tUtiHtmtifn in " liatiuLtoff R ttdpe" &¥ 

Digitized by GoOQ Ic 

there is a graphic picture of the scene 
at the era of the Lord George Gordon 
Riots, drawn by Charles Dickens from 
contemporary records, u There were many 
knots and groups of persons in West- 
minster Hall," Dickens writes, "some few 
looking upward at its noble ceiling, and 
at the rays of evening light, tinted by the 
setting sun, which streamed in aslant 
through its small windows, and, growing 
dimmer by degrees, were quenched in the 
gathering gloom below. Some noisy passen- 
gers, mechanics going home from work, and 
otherwise, who hurried quickly through, 
waking the echoes with their voices, and 
soon darkening the small door in the dis- 
tance, as they passed into the street beyond* 
Some in busy conference together on political 
or private matters, pacing slowly up and down 
with e) r es that sought the ground, and seem- 
ing, by their attitudes, to listen earnestly 
from head to foot. Here a dozen squabbling 
urchins made a very Babel in the air. There 
a solitary man, half-clerk, half-mendicant, 
paced up and down, with hungry dejection in 
his look and gait. At his elbow passed an 
errand lad, swinging his 
basket round and round, 
and with his shrill 
whistle riving the very 
timbers of the roof; 
while a more obser- 
vant schoolboy, half- 
way through, pocketed 
his ball, and eyed the 
distant beadle as he 
came looming on. The 
smooth, worn pavement, 
dusty with footsteps, 
still called upon the 
lofty walls to reiterate 
the shuffle and the tread 
of feet unceasingly, 
save when the closing 
of some heavy door 
resounded through the 
building like a clap of 
thunder, and drowned 
all other noises in its 

VaiUnnoU. rolling SOUnd." 

Original from 






As long as the Courts of Justice 
flanked Westminster Hall, the 
spendid vestibule was, by neces- 
sity, left free to access by the 
people. Whilst the Courts were sitting, it 
was scarcely a less picturesque scene than 
that depicted by Dickens. Shortly before 
the demolition of the old courts, the drama 
reached its climax in the coming and going 
of the Claimant. Morning and evening, 
through weeks and months, the broad 
width of Westminster Hall was narrowed 
by a wedge of humanity that opened to 
make room for this portly person waddling to 
and from his carriage. 

When the seat of justice was shifted to the 
Strand the House of Commons clutched at 
Westminster Hall, and with its traditional 
exclusive selfishness, proclaimed it sacred 
ground. The public were not absolutely ex- 
cluded, but they were not, as heretofore, indis- 
criminately admitted, necessity being created 
for showing that they had some business or 
errand in direct communication with the 
courts. If, for example, they had orders for the 
gallery, they might pass through Westminster 
Hall on their way thither. They might even, 
on field nights, stand in groups to the right 
of the big doorway, watching the members 
pass through, and loudly whisper their names. 
After the explosion panic, the public were so 
rigidly excluded from Westminster Hall, that 
a member might not personally conduct a 
stranger along the echoing pavement of the 
lonely hall. 

As far as the safety of members in Session 
in the House of Commons is concerned, 
these restrictions are as ineffective as they 
are arbitrary. A nineteenth - century Guy 
Fawkes provided with a modern explosive 
would not haunt subterranean passages or 
waste his time in Westminster Hall. As that 
blatant personage O'Donovan Rossa showed a 
couple of Sessions ago, there is no difficulty in 
obtaining a seat on the front bench of the 
Strangers' Gallery. Being there, O'Donovan 
Rossa was content to obtain cheap advertise- 
ment by flinging out a noisy protest upon the 
astonished heads of members. If he had 
meant business, he might, at his leisure, and 
with certain aim, have flung on the floor a 
bomb that would promptly and indefinitely 
have adjourned the sitting. 

This contingency was ever present with 
the authorities during the scare. They 
attempted to guard against it by careful 
examination of anything that looked bulky 
about the person of a stranger. Even 
members carrying small black bags were 

Digitized by Git 

objects of police suspicion. It was felt 
then, and the assurance remains, that the 
unassailable basis of safety of the House of 
Commons from murderous assault from the 
Strangers' Galleries is the invincible objection 
Messieurs ks assassins have to linger 
within reach of the explosive at its supreme 
moment They hanker after the slow match 
and the opportunity it provides of getting 
away to a safe distance before innocent and 
unsuspecting sojourners or passers-by are 
blown into eternity. 

One of the quaintest relics of the 
forgotten scare exists out of public view in 
sentries, the back courtyard of the Houses 
of Parliament. The long length 
of this is bridged at various points by por- 
tions of the building. The habitual tendency 
of the dynamitards to place one of their 
infernal machines in a snug corner, under an 
arched building, pointed the police mind to 
these passages as being the very places where 
attempt to blow up the Houses of Parliament 
would be made. Accordingly, in the height 
of the panic, order was given that a 
policeman should be placed on duty at 
every archway, relief being so arranged 
that by night as well as by day the spot 
should be guarded. * The edict has never 
been withdrawn, and into this peaceful 
Jubilee year, day and night, summer and 
winter, through the recess as through the 
Session, every archway of the Court Yard 
echoes to the tread of a puzzled policeman. 
Study of a collection of pictures 
and prints depicting the House 
of Commons in Session at various 
epochs of its history is, apart from 
the personalities, interesting as 
illustrating the changes in sartorial fashion. 
The House in Session in early spring was, 
to tell the truth, a very ordinary-looking 
assembly. Summer setting in with the 
severity of the last two years, the dull-toned 
benches blossom in summer array. Now is 
the coy cummerbund seen, and the white 
ducks of Cap'en Tommy Bowles flutter to 
and fro, imbuing the scene with a grateful 
touch of purity and innocence. 

At its best and brightest, the House of 
Commons is, from the spectacular point of 
view, a poor thing compared with what it 
was in the time of Walpole, or even of 
Pitt. In the National Pprtrait Gallery 
there is a precious picture of the House, 
showing it at work in the Session of 
1742. It is an engraving by Pin£ from 
a drawing from life by Gravelot. The 
scene is, of. course, the old House of 


the house 


U 1 1 I U I I I '_' 




Commons, with its chapeMike galleries, 
its candelabra pendant from the ceiling. 
Speaker Onslow is in the Chair, and the 
crowded audience is addressed by Sir Robert 
Walpole, who wears the blue ribbon of the 
Garter, All the members 
wear wigs, and are dressed 
in handsome frock-coats 
with high stocks. Accord- 
ing to the custom common 
to gentlemen of England 
of the day, every man 
sports his sword. To-day 
the only armed man in 
the House of Commons 
is the Serjeant-at-Arms. 

The inflexibility of the 
rule against either mem- 
bers or strangers bringing 
weapons into the House 
incidentally adds to the 
long list of injustices to 

Ireland, It is an ancient lowp twjsedmoutji and the new rif j_±* 
privilege of the City of 
Dublin, that when in its corporate capacity 
it presents a petition to the House of 
Commons, the document is presented in 
person by the Lord Mayor, gowned and 
chained, accompanied by his sheriffs, his 
mace bearer, and his sword-bearer. But 
before entering the House to stand at the 
bar with the Lord Mayor, the sword-bearer 
is obliged to deposit his lethal weapon with 
the door-keeper. 

.*„ w~ Another instance where this rule, 

mc ,ppni>jT m the "Ouse, arbitrarily interfered 

with a peaceable procedure, is 

connected with one of the few 
speeches the present Lord Tweed mouth 
addressed to the House of Commons whilst 
he still sat in it as Mr. Marjoribanks. 
He had strong views in respect to a 
new magazine rifle, I forget precisely 
what direction they took. In order to do 
justice to their exposition, it was found 
necessary to turn the Whips 1 room into a 
sort of armoury. For several nights anyone 
entering* on whatever business, was pretty 
certain to find himself covered by a deadly 
barrel, along whose glistening level Mr, 
Maijoribanks's eye gleamed. He was merely 
explaining to someone else the bearings 
of the new rifle. It was startling at firsL 
Hut when the caller, by the frequency of his 
visits, grew accustomed to it, it came to be 
regarded as quite a friendly reception. 

Mr, Marjoribanks had looked forward to 
the advantage of a collection of the magazine 

Vol. >iv.-V, 


rifles within reach of him as he stood at the 
table of the House delivering his lecture. 
The Speaker thought it would be interesting, 
but ruled it was irregular So the rifles were 
left in the Whips' room. 

In Pitt's time 
swords were 
no longer 
worn in the 
House of Commons, 
though in other respects 
the dress of members is 
scarcely less picturesque. 
In the National Portrait 
Gallery there is a painting 
with a curious history, 
showing the House of 
Commons in Session in 
1793. It is the work of 
a German artist, Karl 
Anton Hickel, who was 
fortunate in obtaining 
special sittings from pro- 
minent members. That 
such a picture was in existence long re- 
mained a tradition round Westminster, 
Diligent inquiry failed to get upon its 
track. It was ascertained that the artist on 
returning to his own country had taken his 
work with him. 

4T ~^ 

MH h I'lTT. 

Ftvm fftoktV* Pi'ture 0/ (A* JIohu trf Commons 




It was the late Mr. Edward Stanhope who 
did the nation the service of capturing the 
prize. By diligent research he discovered 
that in the year after the Battle of 
Waterloo, the Emperor of Austria bought 
the picture from the heirs of the painter. 
It was carried to Vienna and subsided 
into a store-room. Earl Granville, at 
the time Foreign Secretary, took a warm 
interest in the matter, with the result that the 
Emperor of Austria graciously presented the 
picture to the National Portrait Gallery, 
where it now hangs — in somewhat of a vault 
it is true, but worth studying 
when the sun shines. 

The scene is full of life 
and colour, William Pitt, in 
velvet coat and knee-breeches, 
with white silk stockings, is 
addressing the House, look- 
ing much less like Mr. Cham- 
berlain than he does in his 
statue at Knowle, and in the 
less meritorious work of art 
in the corridor leading to the 
Lobby of the House of Com- 
mons, All the members are 
clean-shaven, powdered, and 
wigged* One on the 'treasury 
Bench, immediately behind 
Mr, Pitt, is a colleague start- 
lingly like Sir Frank Lock- 
wood, With the exception of 
one or two members, who 
wear low, broad-brimmed felt hats, all are 
uncovered. Per contra^ the Speaker wears 
the three-cornered hat, taken in hand in 
these days only for the purpose of counting 
the House. 

At the corner seat below the gangway, 

inconveniently squeezed, is a figure which one 

would at first sight take to be the Chaplain, 

though what he is doing there, seated among 

members, is inexplicable. It is not the 

Chaplain, but the Master of the Rolls, 

arrayed in black gown and clerical bands. 

To-day the Master of the Rolls seated on 

that bench would be as much out of place 

as would be the Chaplain. 

, Another and better-known picture 
IN FEELS r .i it c r * ■ 

of the House of Commons, since 

it has longer been a national 

possession, is Sir George Hay- 

ter's view of the interior of the House during 

the morning of the Address to the Crown at the 

meeting of the first Reform Parliament on 

the 5th of February, 1833, In the serried 

ranks on the bench immediately behind his 

leader, Sir Robert Peel, is seated " the 


MEN r. 


rising hope of the Conservative Party ? '— ■ 
Mr, W, E, Gladstone, at the time in 
his twenty-fourth year, member for Newark. 
There is nothing about the face or figure 
that recalls the statesman we have known 
in recent years, the sole survivor of that now 
ghostly gathering. 

The muster-roll contains some names 
familiar in Parliamentary history. Lord John 
Russell is on the Treasury Bench. Near 
him his esteemed colleague Lord Palmerstom 
Seated in various parts of the House are 
Sir Francis Burdett, Thomas Powell Buxton, 
William Cobbett, John Evelyn 
Denison, afterwards Speaker : 
Sir James Graham, Grote, the 
historian; Gully, the some- 
time prize-fighter ; I.ord Al- 
thorpe, afterwards Earl 
S[>eneer ; Lord Ashley, longer 
known as the* Earl of Shaftes- 
bury ; the two Barings, who 
later severally became Lord 
Ash hurt on and Lord North- 
brook ; Cam Hobhouse, 
Jeffrey, of the Edinburgh ; 
Henry I^ibouehere, who, un- 
mindful of his nephew's later 
developed prejudices, became 
Lord Taunton ; Macaulay, 
then sitting for Leeds ; Daniel 
O'Connell, who in this 
Parliament preceded Lord 
Randolph Churchill in his 
preference for the corner seat below the 
gangway to the left of the Chair ; John 
Arthur Roebuck, La lor Shiel, Christopher 
Talbot, who only the other day, as it 
seemed, sat in the House of Commons 
with the proud title of its Father, now 
passed on to Mr. Villiers ; Poulett Thomp- 
son, Sir Harry Yerney, not long passed 
away, and John Walter, proprietor of the 

The average member of the 
House of Commons displays 
what the public are inclined to 
regard as disproportionate anxiety 
to figure in the division list. This 
ambition would be as intelligible 
as it is honourable if it were confined to 
important occasions^ and was exercised in 
circumstances that made every vote tell. 
But whatever be the question, however 
local, even trivial, there is shown the same 
deathless determination to be in at the 

Strangers in the Central Hall are 
occasionally surprised, e en alarmed, to see 








a file of gentlemen, some stout, many elderly, 
trotting at breathless speed over the space 
that divides the House of Lords from the 
Commons, They have been in the Lords 
listening to some important debate. There 


comes a messenger with news that a division 
is called. Instantly a stampede takes place, 
There is just time between the clearing of 
the House and the putting of the question a 
iecond time to cover the ground between 
the two Houses, There is perhaps upon the 
round earth no figure so pitiful, no face so 
distressed, as that of the member who, having 
made this, or other, dash for the division, 
finds the door closed even as he crosses the 
lobby. The looker-on would be inclined to 
think that for the country all was lost, even 
honour, If in remorse for his inability to 
avert calamity by his vote the disappointed 
member were straightway to repair to the 
Terrace and there shoot himself, no one 
would be surprised* Whereas the probability 
is that he does not even know upon what 
question the House is dividing, and if he 
has gathered so much information, he, not 
having been present through the debate, has 
not till he sees the Whips the slightest idea 
into which lobby he should go. 

The explanation of the burning zeal, the 
over-mastering desire, is found in the fact that 
attendances upon the division lobby are 
carefully recorded, and at the end of the 
Session are tabulated, with the effect of 
showing more or less constant attendance on 


the part of members. In view of future 
contests in his constituency a member feels 
the desirability of building up a record whose 
official authority shall silence slander hinting 
at remissness of duty. With some members 

who cannot hope 
to reach the height 
of Mr Gladstone's 
eloquence, or the 
position of Sir Wil- 
liam Harcourt and 
Mr, Arthur Balfour, 
there is the laudable 
ambition of coming 
out at the end oi 
the Session one of 
ten members who 
have been in the 
largest number of 
divisions, It comes 
to pass that the 
drudgery of an all- 
night sitting is 
gladly suffered, 
since in the course 
of it there may be 
opport u n it y of 
adding appreciably 
to the score of 
If these remarks serve to impress. 
a smart the outsider with the high value 
treck. set by members upon the oppor- 
tunity of running up their division 
account, he will, at least partially, understand 
the alarm and indignation which followed 
upon discovery of a temporarily successful 
attempt at what may without disrespect be 
called rigging the market. Among the Stand- 
ing Orders added in recent years is one 
whereby the Speaker or Chairman of Com- 
mittees, deeming a demand for a division 
frivolous, may refuse to waste the time of the 
House in sending members round the lobbies. 
In such cases he calls upon members crying 
for the division to stand up in their places. 
The division lobby clerks are called in, the 
names of the small minority are taken down, 
and printed in the papers distributed on the 
following day. 

For many Sessions this ordinance was 
passively operative, A fractious minority, 
knowing what was in store for them if they 
persisted, shrank from the ludicrous position 
of standing up like naughty boys whilst their 
names were taken down in presence of a 
jeering majority. This Session an ingenious 
mind discovered quite unexpected oppor- 
tunities in St Hiding Order No, 30. He 




observed that the names of 
the minority, printed in the 
Orders of the Day, were 
reckoned as if they had 
taken part in an ordinary 
division* This was worth 
double an average oppor- 
tunity. Not only did the 
minority get a mark each 
in the table of divisions, but 
others of the majority, who 
might be pressing them close 
for precedence, were out of 
the running. The discovery 
was followed by an epidemic 
of frivolously claimed divi- 
sions within the meaning of 
the statute. Loyal Minis- 
terialists, staying up kite at night to back 
up the Government, sat in anguished impo- 
tence whilst some five or a dozen members 
opposite, frivolously claiming divisions, ran 
up their score three or four points in a 
single night. 

After enduring this experience for what 
seemed an interminable 
period, an appeal was 
made fc to the Speaker, 
who, amid loud cheers, 
ruled that the practice, 
as far as it affected 
the division table, was 
an infringement of 
the spirit of the rule. 
Hereafter, the names of 
these minorities, though 
they will be taken down 
and printed, will not 
be included in the 
division list. This 
ruling was marked by a 
sudden and complete 
cessation of the practice 
of frivolously claiming 

I hear a pretty story about a 

a new visit recently paid by Lord 

hat trick, Charles Beresford to a Yorkshire 

town famed for its ironworks. 


The popular visitor was 
conducted over one of the 
largest foundries, among 
whose chief possessions is a 
massive Nasmyth hammer. 
After the mighty engine 
had performed a series of 
gigantic operations. Lord 
Charles was invited to place 
his hat beneath the ham- 
mer and see what would 
become of it. 

The hat was a new one, 
selected for the special oc- 
casion. Lord Charles had 
seen chunks of iron battered 
out to the thickness of a 
threepenny - bit But the 
commander of the Condor \ the captain of 
the boat that went up the Nile and mended 
its boiler under a heavy fire, was not 
the man to flinch from the ordeak He 
took off his hat and placed it under the 



of the 


the enormous 
stopping short 
a hair's-breadth 
roof of the hat. 
Charles, with his child- 
like smile, resumed his 
prized possession. 

Amongst the visitor's 
escort was a local mem- 
ber, a blatant person well 
known in the House of 
Commons and out of it. 
" Most wonderful ! " 
said Lord Charles, turn- 
ing to the M.P. 

^ Oh ! not at all," 
said he ; M a mere noth- 
ing. They never fail. 
Now 1*11 try mine." 

He placed his hat 
(not quite so glossy a 
specimen as Lord Charles's) under the 
hammer. At a given signal down it came, 
smashing the astonished hat much flatter 
than a pancake. 

by Google 

Original from 

^fHE ^BVIlKTWBtlS 01? 



ing on a business or trade 

From the German of 

W. Haui t. 

N the time of Haroun Al- 
Raschid, ruler of Bagdad, 
there lived in Balsora a man, 
Benezar by name. His means 
enabled him to live quietly 
and comfortably, without carry- 
and when a son 
was born to him he made no change in his 
manner of living, "For," said he, il what will 
feed two, will feed three. 1 ' Raid, for so they 
called the boy, soon made a name for 
himself among his playmates as a lusty 
fighter, and was surpassed by none in riding 
or swimming. 

When he was eighteen, his father sent him 
on a pilgrimage to Mecca, and before he 
started gave him much good advice, and 
provided him with money for his journey. 
Lastly he said : — 

** There is something more I must tell you, 
my boy, I am not the man to believe that 
fairies and enchanters, whatever they may 
be, have any influence over the fate of man- 
kind ; that sort of nonsense is only good for 
whiling away the lime ; but your mother 
believed in them as firmly as in the Koran. 
She even told ine, after making me swear 
never to reveal the secret except to her child, 
that she herself was under the protection of 
a fairy, 1 always laughed at her, but still I 
must confess that some very strange events 
happened at your birth- It rained and 

thundered all day, and the heavens were black 
with clouds. 

" When they told me that I had a little son t 
I hastened to see and bless my first-born, 
hut I found my wife's door shut, and all her 
attendants standing outside. I knocked, but 
with no result. While I was waiting there, 
the sky cleared, just over Balsora, although 
the lightning still flashed and writhed round 
the blue expanse. As I was gazing in astonish- 
ment at this spectacle, your mother's door 
flew open and I went in alone. On entering 
the room, I perceived a delicious odour of 
roses, carnations, and hyacinths. Your 
mother Zemira showed me a tiny silver 
whistle, that was hanging round your neck 
by a gold chain as fine as silk. 4 This is the 
fairy s gift to our boy/ she said. 'Well/ I 
laughed, * I think she might have given him 
something better than that — a purse of gold, 
for instance, or a horse.* 

" But Zemira begged me not to anger the 

good fairy, for fear she might lurn her 

blessing to a curse; so, to please her, the 

matter was never mentioned again till she 

was dying. Then she gave me the whistle, 

telling me never to part with you till you 

were twenty, when the whistle was to be 

yours, But I see no objection to your going 

away now. You have common-sense, and 

can defend yourself as well as any man of 

four and- twenty. Go in peace, my son, 

Think ever of your father in good fortune or 

in ill, and may Heaven defend you from that 
!**#« Original from 





Said took an affectionate farewell of his 
father, and placing the chain round his neck, 
sprang lightly into his saddle, and went off to 
join the caravan for Mecca. At last they 
were all assembled, and Said rode gaily out 
of Balsora. Just at first the novelty of his 
position and surroundings occupied his 
thoughts, but as they drew near to the desert 
he began to consider his father's words. He 
drew out the whistle and put it to his lips, 
but, wonder of wonders, no matter how hard 
he blew, not a sound came out ! This was 
disappointing, and Said impatiently thrust 
the whistle back into his girdle ; still the 
marvellous had a strange attraction for him, 
and he spent the whole day in building his 
airy castles. 

Said was a fine-looking fellow, with a dis- 
tinguished face, and a bearing which, young 
as he was, marked him out as one born to 
command. Everyone was attracted to him, 
and especially was this the case with an 
elderly man, who rode near him. They 
entered into conversation, and it was not 
long before the mysterious power of fairies 
was mentioned. 

" Do you believe in fairies ? " asked Said, 
at last. 

" Well," replied the other, stroking his 
beard thoughtfully, " I should not like to say 
that there are no such beings, although I 
have never seen one." And then he began 
to relate such wonderful stories, that Said felt 
that his mother's words must have been true, 
and when he went to sleep was transported 
to a veritable fairyland. 

The next day the travellers were dismayed 
to see a band of robbers swooping down on 
them. All was confusion in an instant, and 
they had scarcely had time to place the 
women and children in the centre, when the 
Arabs were upon them. Bravely as the men 
acquitted themselves, all was in vain, for the 
robbers were more than four hundred strong. 
At this dreadful moment Said bethought him 
of his whistle ; but, alas, it remained dumb 
as before, and poor Said, dropping it hastily, 
fired on a man, who seemed from his dress 
to be of some importance. 

" What have you done ? " cried the old 
man, who was fighting at his side. " There 
is no hope for us now." 

And so, indeed, it seemed — for the robbers, 
maddened by the death of the man, pressed 
so closely on the youth that they broke down 
even his sturdy resistance. The others were 
soon overcome or slain, and Said found 
himself on horseback, bound and guarded by 
armed men. These treated him with rough- 

ness, and the only drop of comfort in his cup 
was that his old friend was riding near. You 
may be sure his thoughts were not very 
pleasant — slavery or death was all he had to 
look forward to. 

After riding for some time, they saw in the 
far distance trees and tents, and in a short 
time they were met by bands of women and 
children, who had no sooner heard the news 
than they began to throw sticks and clods of 
earth at Said, shrieking, " That is the man 
who killed the great Almansor, bravest of 
men ; he must die, and we will throw his 
body to the jackals." 

They became so threatening that the 
bandits interfered, and, bearing off their 
prisoner, led him bound into one of the 
tents. Here was seated an old man, 
evidently the leader of the band. His head 
was bent. 

"The weeping of the women has told me 
all — Almansor is dead," said he. 

" Almansor is dead," answered the robbers, 
c< oh, Mighty One of the Desert, but here is 
his murderer. Only speak the word. Shall 
his doom be to be shot, or to be hanged 
from the nearest tree ? " 

But the aged Selim questioned Said, and 
found that his son had been slain in fair 
fight. " He has done, then, no more than 
we ourselves should have done. Loose his 
bonds. The innocent shall not die," cried 
Selim, in his sternest tones, seeing his men's 
reluctance and discontent. As for Said, the 
very fulness of his heart closed his lips, and 
he could not find words in which to thank 
his deliverer. From this time he lived in 
Selim's tent, almost taking the place of that 
son whose death he had caused. 

But sedition was rife among the robbers. 
Their beloved Prince had been murdered, 
and his murderer was shielded by the father ! 
Many the execration hurled at Said as he 
walked in the camp ; indeed, several attempts 
were made on his life. At length Selim 
perceived that soon even his influence would 
not be sufficient to guard the young man, 
and so he sent him away with an escort, 
saying that his ransom had been paid. But 
before they started he bound the robbers by 
a dreadful oath that they would not kill Said. 

It was indeed a terrible ride ! Said saw 
that his guides were performing their task 
with great reluctance, and soon they began 
to whisper together. He nerved himself to 
listen, and what he heard did not tend to 
reassure him. 

" This is the very spot," said one. " I 
shall never forget; it." 



it i 

(t And to think that his murderer still lives ! " 

41 Ah ! if his father had not made us Lake 
that oath ! " 

4t Stay," cried the most forbidding-looking 
of all, "we have not sworn to bring this 
fellow to the end of his journey. We will 
leave him his life, but the scorching sun and 
the sharp teeth of the jackal shall perform 
our vengeance. Let us bind him and leave 
him here." 

Said, hearing this brutal suggestion, made a 
desperate effort 
for his life* Spur- 
ring his horse, 
he rode off at 
full speed ; but 
the bandits soon 
recovered from 
their amaze- 
ment, andj giv- 
ing chase, had 
him at their 
mercy. Tears, 
prayers, even 
bribes were of 
no avail, and the 
wretched Said 
was left to face 
death in its most 
painful form. 
Higher and 
higher mounted 
the sun, and 
Said tried to roll 
over to obtain 
some small re- 
lief. In doing 
this the whistle 
attracted his 
notice, and he 
contrived to get 
it between his 
lips, but for the 
third time it re- 
fused its office, 
and Said, over- 
come by the 
heat and the horror of his situation, fainted. 
After several hours he awoke to see, not the 
dreaded beast of prey, but a human being. 

This was a little man, with small eyes and 
a long beard, who informed Said, when the 
latter had somewhat recovered, that he was 
Kalum Bek, a merchant, and that he was on 
a business expedition when he found him 
lying half dead in the sand, Said thanked 
the little man, and gratefully accepted a seat 
on his camel As they were journeying the 
merchant related many stories in praise of 


the justice and aeuteness of the Father of the 

"My cousin Messour/' he said, "is his 
Lord Chamberlain, and he has often told me 
how the Caliph is wont to sally forth at night, 
attended by himself alone* to see how his 
people are cared for. And so, when we go 
about the streets at night, we have to be 
polite to every idiot we meet, for it is as likely 
to be the Caliph as some dog of an Arab 
from the desert." 

Hearing such 
accounts as 
these, Said 
thought himself 
a lucky fellow to 
have the chance 
of seeing Bag- 
dad and the re- 
nowned Al-Ras- 
chid. \V hen 
they arrived in 
the city, Kalum 
invited Said to 
accompany him 
home. The next 
day the youth 
had just dressed 
himself in his 
most magni- 
ficent clothes, 
thinking of the 
sensation he 
would cause, 
when the mer- 
chant entered, 
and, looking at 
htm scornfully, 
said : " That is 
all very fine, my 
young sir t but 
it seems to me 
you are a great 
dreamer Have 
you the monev 
to keep up that 

11 It is true, sir, 1 ' said Said, blushing, "that 
I have no money ; but perhaps you will be 
kind enough to lend me sufficient to travel 
home with, for my father is sure to repay 

** Your father, boy," laughed the merchant. 
" I really think the sun must have affected 
your brain. You don't suppose, do you, that 
I believe the fable you made up for my 
benefit ? I know all the rich men in Balsora, 
but no Bene^ar, . Besides, do you think the 
disappearance of a whole caravan would pass 




unnoticed ? And then, you bare-faced liar, 
that story about Selim ! Why, that man is 
noted for his cruelty ; and do you mean to 
tell me that he allowed the murderer of his 
son to go free— and thai; too, without 
ransom ? Oh, you shameless liar ! iy 

u Indeed, I have spoken the truth/* cried 
Said. " I have no proof of my words, and 
can only swear to you that I have spoken no 
falsehood- If you will not help me, then I 
must appeal to the Caliph/' 

" Really ! " scoffed the little man ; " you 
will beg, then, from no less exalted a person 
than our gracious Ruler ! Just consider that 
the Caliph can only be approached through 
my cousin Messour, and that with a word I 

could But I pity your youth. You are 

not too old yet for reformation. You shall 
serve in my shop for a year, and 
then, if you wish to leave me, I will 
pay you your wages, and let you go 
whither you will. I give you till 
midday to think over it If you 
refuse, I will seize your clothes and 
possessions to pay myself for your 
passage, and throw you on the 

Said was indeed in difficulties ; 
bad luck seemed to press upon him 
at every turn, There was no escap- 
ing from the rooni> for the windows 
were barred and the door locked. 
After cudgelling his brains for some 
time, he saw that he must submit 
to the indignity imposed upon him 
by the villainous little man, and so 
the next day he followed him to the 
shop in the bazaar. His duty was 
to stand (his gallant attire a thing 
of the past) in the doorway, a veil 
or a shawl in either hand, and cry 
his wares to the passers-by. 

Said soon saw why Kalum had 
been so anxious to retain him as a 
servant. No one wished to do 
business with the hateful old man, 
but when the salesman was a hand- 
some youth it was a different matter 
altogether, One especially busy day 
all the porters were em ployed > when 
an elderly lady entered, and made 
some purchases. After she had 
bought all she wanted, she de- 
manded someone to curry her 
parcels home for her. In vain 
did the merchant promise to send 
them in half an hour — she would 
have them then or never ; and her 
eye falling on Said, she wanted 


to know why he should not accompany her. 
After much remonstrance Kalum had to 
give in, and Said found himself following in 
the wake of the lady, who stopped at last 
before a magnificent house. She knocked 
and they were admitted, and after mounting 
a wide marble staircase, Said found himself in 
a lofty hall, far grander than he had ever 
seen before. Here he was relieved of his 
burden, and was just going out at the door, 
when : — 

"Said," cried a sweet voice behind him. 
He turned round quickly, and saw to his 
amazement a daintily beautiful lady sur- 
rounded by attendants, instead of the old 
lady he had followed. 

"Said, my dear boy," she said, "it is a 
great misfortune that you left Balsora before 




you were twenty; but here in Bagdad there is 
some chance for you. Have you still your 
little whistle ? " 

44 Indeed, I have," he cried, gladly ; 
" perhaps you are the kindly fairy who 
befriended my mother ? " 

11 Yes, and as long as you are good I will 
help you. But, alas ! I cannot even deliver 
you from that wretch, Kalum Bek, for he is 
protected by your most powerful enemy." 

44 But can we do nothing ? Can I not go 
to the Caliph ? He is a just man and will 
help me." 

" Haroun is indeed just, but he is greatly 
influenced by Messour, who, a model of 
uprightness himself, has been already primed 
by Kalum with his version of your story. 
But there are other ways of getting at the 
Caliph, and it is written in the stars that 
you will obtain his favour," 

44 1 am to be pitied if I have to stay much 
longer with that rascal of a shopkeeper. 
But there is one favour I beg of you, most 
gracious of fairies. Jousts are held every 
week, but only for the freeborn. Couldn't 
you manage to give me equipments, and 
make my face so that no one would know 

44 That is a wish worthy of a brave man, 
and I will grant it. Come here each week, 
and you will find everything you want. And 
now, farewell. Be cautious and virtuous. 
In six months your whistle will sound, and 
Zulima will answer its appeal." 

Said took leave of his protectress, and, 
taking note of the position of the house, 
made his way back to the shop. He arrived 
there in the very nick of time, for Kalum 
was surrounded by a crowd of jeering neigh- 
bours, and was literally dancing with rage. 
This was what had happened. Two men 
had asked the merchant if he could direct 
them to the shop of the handsome salesman. 

44 Well ! well ! " said the old man, smiling, 
44 Heaven has guided you to the right place 
this time. What do you want, a shawl or a 
veil ? : ' 

This to the men seemed nothing short of 
insolence, and they fell upon him tooth and 
nail, the neighbours refusing to help the old 
skinflint. But Said, seeing his master in 
such distress, strode to the rescue, and one 
of the assailants soon found himself on 
the giound. Under the influence of his 
flashing eyes the crowd soon melted away, 
for violence on the wrong side was not to 
their taste. 

44 Oh, you prince of shopmen, that is what 

I call interfering to some purpose ! Didn't 
Vol. xiv. .-is. 

he lie on the ground as if he had never used 
his legs ? I should have lost my beard for 
ever if you had not come up. How shall I 
reward you ? " 

Said had only acted upon the impulse of 
the moment ; indeed, he now felt rather sorry 
that he had deprived the scoundrel of a 
well -deserved thrashing. He seized the 
opportunity, however, and asked for an 
evening a week in which to take a walk. 
This was granted him, and the next 
Wednesday he set out for the fairy's house. 
Here he found everything as Zulima had 
promised. First the servants gave him a 
wash, which changed him from a stripling to 
a black-bearded man, whose face was bronzed 
by exposure to the sun. Then he was led 
into a second room, where he saw a dress 
that would not have been put to shame by 
the State robes of the Caliph. He hastily 
donned this, and, magnificently equipped, 
descended the stairs. As he reached the 
door, a servant handed him a silk handker- 
chief with which to wipe his face when he 
wished to rid himself of his disguise. In the 
court were standing three horses ; two were 
ridden by squires, but the most magnificent 
was for his own use. When Said arrived on 
the plain set apart for the jousts, all eyes 
turned on him, and curiosity was rife as to 
who the unknown knight could be ; that he 
was distinguished and of high family none 

W 7 hen Said entered the lists he gave his 
name as Almansor of Cairo, and said that he 
had come to Bagdad because of the fame of 
the youths of that city. The sides were 
chosen, and the opposing parties charged. 
Said's horse was as swift as an eagle, and his 
prowess with the sword was so great that 
even the bravest shunned meeting him, and 
the Caliph's brother, who had been on his 
side, challenged him to single combat. The 
two fought, but were so equal that the contest 
had to be postponed till the next meeting. On 
the following day all Bagdad was ringing with 
the praises of the gallant young knight ; and 
little did the people guess that he was then 
serving in a shop in the bazaar. 

At the next tournament Said carried all 
before him, and received from the Caliph a 
golden medallion hanging from a gold chain. 
This aroused the envy of the other youths. 
Was a stranger to come to Bagdad and rob 
them of their honour? Said noticed the 
signs of discontent, and observed that all 
viewed him askance, except the brother and 
son of the Caliph. By a strange chance the 
one moiit bitter against him was the man he 




had knocked down before Kalum Bek's shop* 
Led by this man, the others made a sudden 
attack on Said, who must have fallen if the 
Royal combatants had not rushed to his aid. 

For more than four months he* continued 
to fight in the lists> but one night as he was 
going home he noticed four men who were 
walking slowly before him, To his astonish- 
ment, he found they were speaking in the 
dialect used by Selim's band He suspected 
that they were after no good, and so he crept 
nearer to hear what they were saying. 

" He will be in the street to the right of 
the ba/aar to-night, attended by the Grand 
Vizier, 31 said one. 

"That is good, n answered the other; 
"there is no fear of the Grand Vizier, but 
I am not so sure of the Caliph — there might 
be some of his guard near." 

"No, there won't/' broke in a third; "he 
is always alone at night 11 

" 1 think it would be best to throw a lasso 
over his head/' said the first 

"Very well, an hour after midnight"; and 
with these words they separated, 

" Wei I j I have discovered a pretty plot," 
thought Said, and his first idea was to go at 
once to the Caliph, but he remembered how 
Kalum had maligned him to Messour, and 
stopped. No, the only way was for him to 

\\ defend the Caliph 

in person. Accord- 
ingly, when night 
came on, he be- 
took himself to 
iN the appointed 
I ' street, and waited 
to see what was 
going to happen. 
Soon the men 
came and con- 
cealed themselves 
in different parts 
of the street. All 
was quiet for half 
an hour, and at 
the end of that 
time one of the 
robbers gave a 
sign, for theCaliph 
was in sight With 
one accord the 
band rushed upon 
him, but Said rose 
from his hiding- 
place, and laid 
about him with 
such hearty good* 
will that they 
were soon glad to take to their heels with all 

" My rescue/' said the Caliph, "is no less 
wonderful than the attack made upon me. 
How did you know who I was? How did 
you get to know of the plot ? J * 

Said then told how he had followed the 
men, and, hearing their plans, determined to 
frustrate their villainous intention. 

" Receive my thanks/' said the Caliph, 
"and accept this ring. Present it to-morrow 
at the Palace, and we will see what can be 
done for you," 

The Vizier, too, gave him a ring, together 
with a heavy purse* 

Mad with joy, Said hurried home, but here 
Kalum was awaiting him, anxious lest he 
should have lost his handsome servant. The 
little man raved at Said, but the latter had 
seen that his purse was full of money, and 
told him flatly that he would stay there no 
longer. He strode out at the door, leaving 
Kalum staring after him in open-mouthed 
astonishment. The next morning the 
merchant set the police on his track, and 
they brought him word that his quondam 
servant, dressed in a most magnificent fashion, 
was just setting out with a caravan. 

"He has stolen money from me, the thief ! " 

^'wftSfH dptiiflteffh the oonstable 



to arrest Said. As Kalurn was known to be 
related to Messour, his commands were 
promptly attended to, and poor Said found 
himself condemned, unheard s as having stolen 
the purse from his master. He was sentenced 
to life-long banishment on a desert island, 
and all his protestations of innocence were of 
no avail The poor fellow was in despair, 
and even the stony-hearted merchant put in 
a plea Tor him. He was thrown into a filthy 
dungeon, together with nineteen others* He 
comforted himself with the thought that his 
life would be more endurable on board ship 1 
but here he was mistaken. The atmosphere 
was foul, and the men fought like wild beasts 
for the best places. Food and water were 
handed out to them once a day, and at the 
s^ine time the men who had died were 
hauled out, 

A fortnight was passed in this misery, 
but one day they felt 
the ship was tossing 

more than usual, and f 

their discomfort was t^ 

increased. At last 
the survivors burst the .^s^ L_ 

floated for about half an hour, he suddenly 
remembered his whistle. It still hung round 
his neck, and holding on well with one hand 
to the mast, he put it to his mouth, and 
this time it did not fail him. At the 
sound of the clear, sweet note, the storm 
ceased as if by magic, and the sea became 
like glass, and, what was more wonderful 
still, the mast by which Said was supported 
was changed into a huge dolphin, to his 
no small terror. But he soon found 
there was no need for him to be afraid, for 
the fish bore him as swiftly as an arrow 
through the water. 

After some time Said, remembering tales 
of enchanters, drew out his whistle, and, 
blowing a shrill blast, wished for a meal. At 
once a table rose from the depths of the sea, 
and Said enjoyed the much -needed refresh- 
ment. The sun was just sinking, when he 

saw a large town in 
the distance which re- 
minded him of Bag- 
dad. The thought of 
Bagdad was not so 
very pleasant, but still 



hatches open, hut to their despair they saw 
that the ship had been deserted by all the 
crew. The storm raged even more wildly, 
the ship rocked and settled deeper in the 
water. At last it went to pieces, and Said 
managed to cling to the mast After he had 

he trusted that the fairy, who had guarded him 
so far, would not let him fall into the hands of 
Kalum Bek- As he drew nearer he noticed a 
large house on the bank of the river, the roof 
of which wQp§i!6tfMEPWith men, who were 
all g^fr l EP(^^^^I^H4 i .iANhimself. N r 



sooner had Said set foot on the land, than 
the fish vanished, and at the same time the 
servants appeared to lead him before their 
master. On the roof were standing three 
men, who questioned him in a friendly way. 
Said at once began to relate his story, from 
the time when he left Balsora, and his 
listeners declared that they believed him ; 
still, they asked if he could produce the 
golden chain and the rings of which he had 

" Here they are," said Said. "I deter- 
mined not to part with them while I had life 
to defend them." 

" By the beard of the Prophet, this is my 
ring, Grand Vizier — our deliverer stands 
before us ! " 

Said was overcome by finding in whose 
presence he was, and flung himself at the 
Caliph y s feet. But Haroun raised him, and 
overwhelmed him with praise and thanks. 
Nothing would do but that Said must return 
with them to the palace, where they would 
conceive some plan to bring the merchant 
Kalum to book. On the next day Kalum 
himself begged for admittance to the presence 
of Haroun. A dispute had arisen between 
himself and a man of Balsora, and he asked 
for judgment 

" I will hear him," said the Caliph. " Said," 
turning to the youth as the servant left the 
room, "this is no other than your father. 
Do you hide . behind that curtain, and you, 
Grand Vizier, fetch the magistrate who 
condemned Said." 

In a short time Kalum entered, 
accompanied by Benezar, and, after the 
Caliph had mounted his throne, began his 

41 1 was standing at my door a few days 
ago, when this man Benezar came down the 
street, offering a purse of gold for news of 
Said. I at once claimed the money, and 
told him how his son, for so I found him to 
be, had suffered the penalty for stealing a 
purse from me. Then the madman 

demanded his money back, and wanted to 
make me responsible for his rascal of a 

"Bring the magistrate who condemned 
the youth," commanded Haroun. He was pro- 
duced as if by magic. After much question- 
ing, the justice confessed that no witness had 
been brought forward except the purse. 

" Why," shouted the Grand Vizier, u that 
is my purse, you scoundrel, and I gave it to 
the gallant youth who saved me." 

"Then," thundered the Caliph, " you 
swore falsely, Kalum Bek. What w T as done 
to Said ? " 

44 1 sent him to a desert island," stammered 
the magistrate. 

44 Oh, Said, my son, my son ! " wept the 
unhappv father. 

44 Stand forth, Said," said the Caliph. 

Confronted by this apparition, Kalum and 
the justice flung themselves on their knees, 
crying, " Mercy ! mercy ! " 

" Did you have mercy on the misfortunes 
of this unhappy boy ? You, my best of judges, 
shall retire to a desert island, so that you 
may have an opportunity of studying justice. 
But, Kalum Bek, what am I to say to you ? 
You shall pay Said for all the time he has 
served you, and," as Kalum was beginning 
to congratulate himself on coming so well 
out of the business, "for the perjury you 
shall receive a hundred strokes on the soles 
of your feet. Take the men away and carry 
out their sentence." 

The wretched beings were led away, and 
the Caliph took Said and his father into 
another apartment. Here their conversation 
was interrupted by the yells of Kalum, who 
was undergoing punishment in the court 
outside. The Caliph invited Benezar to 
bring his goods and settle in Bagdad. He 
gladly consented, and Said spent his life in 
the palace built for him by the grateful 
Caliph — indeed, the proverb ran in Bagdad, 
" May I be as good and fortunate as Said, 
the son of Benezar." 

by Google 

Original from 


[We shall be glad to receive Contributions to (his section f and to pay for such as are aaeptcd.\ 


Common glass bottles are evidently acq nisiti oris of 
considerable value in the estimation of the natives of 
West Africa— at any rate, judging from the careful and 

ingenious manner in 

which the accompany- 
ing specimen has 

been protected and 

decorated. This is 

a photograph of an 

ordinary pint hock- 

bottle, which had pro- 
bably been thrown 

away by some white 

men and eagerly 

pounced upon by a 

native, who (and the 

whole country - side 

agreed with him) con- 
sidered be had lighted 

upon a real treasure. 

This boille was 

covered in a very 

tasteful manner with 

hide and plaited strips 

of vari-colouied cane, 

the latter being worked 

into a zig-zag pattern 

in panels from top to 

bottom* Even the 

cork did not fail to 

receive at tent ion y For it, 

too f was covered with 

hide and coloured a 

brilliant red. The 

lx>ttle was afterwards 

tued as a water- vessel 

by a powerful chief. 

Mr. Chas. Tly, Heskins, of 94, 
Blenheim Road, Reading, was 
gtMtd enough to send in this ex- 
tremely curious and interesting 
photo. The kettle, it seems, was 
a disused one, and stood for a long 
time on a shelf with the lid partly 
off, much as we see in the photo. 
One night the mouse got in, possi- 
bly in Ihe hope of finding some 
stray crusts. Why the little animal 
should take it into his head to 
le»ve the inhospitable kettle by the 
spout is not known, but htr did, 
with the result portrayed in the 
photo. His head got through all 
right, and two pathetic little paws ; 
bul * 4 the force of Nature could nci 
fcrther go," and poor niousie stuck 
fast. Next morning someone took 
the kettle in hand, and l * assisted " 
the mouse's hindquarters with a 
stick of wood, with the result that 
he emerged slowly and stiffly, and 
was finally allowed to hobble pain- 
fully away. Truly, a narrow escape 
in more senses than one ! 

bm mm ~^*a ni • ■ - "*» ■ *SB 

** The accompanying photo.," writes Mr. Albert L. 
Tyles, of 28, Albany Road, Stroud Green, N., "is a 
great curiosity owing to the form which the water 
of the fall Lakes* It is a perfect representation of a 
stately, long Warded old man, clothed in a flowing 
robe, and with a crown and sceptre. It is one of the 
waterfalls of the Lakes, 'Scale Force,* The form is 
perfectly natural. I did not notice it until after the 
photo, was developed." 




This year the fine 
old engine here shown 
celebrates its Jubilee — 
fifty years of active ser- 
vice on the L. & N + \\\ 
Rai 1 w ay. 1 he * * Corn - 
wall " began its career 
as we see it in the first 
illustration, and having 
kept pace, so to speak, 
with every improvement 
in up-to-date engineer- 
ing, it gradually became 
metamorphosed into the 
elegant engine seen in 
the second picture^ Very 
rare indeed is it for an 
express passenger- 
engine to survive half a 
century of active work, 
and then to lie — like 
"Charley's Aunt " — 
"still running." The 
locomotive was built by 
Trevilhick in 1847. It 
had an 8ft. 61 11. driving- 
wheel, lien each whose 
axle the boiler was 
placed so as to keep the 
centre of gravity as low 
as possible- The engine 
may now ho seen daily 
hauling the expresses 
bet ween Manchester and Liverpool. (Sent in by 
II. I!. Z'ilkingLon, 6o, Talbot Street, Soulhport.) 


It is to Mr. R. Howard- Smith, of 18, 
Wolseley Road, Crouch End, that we are in- 
debted for this interesting curiosity. "This 
little square of paper, '* he writes, "was rescued 
from beneath the ink-bottle in our inkstand. 
Careless jolting had somehow resulted in a 
passing fair image, which would do credit to 
the practised hand of a silhouette artist. Not 
a touch has embellished the picture. Is it a 
boy or a girl ? '* 

Major Alex, Wood, managing director of the Western ard 
Brazilian Telegraph Com^iny, kindly lent us this photo. 
It shows an immense mass of coral picked up by the 
company's cable on June 5th, 1877, whilst the fVrhumbuco 
• — Bahia section was Imng repaired. The depth of water was 
twenty-seven fathoms, and the weight of the coral 1,0821b* 



The Humboldt, a huge balloon belonging to the 
Society for the Cultivation of Aeronautics, was 
intended to ascend from the grounds of the Imperial 
Physico-Technical Institution, Charlottenburg, Ger- 
many. In its ascent it was forced towards a tall 
chimney and caught by the lightning-rod, which rent 
its fabric badly ^ This curious incident was very 
successfully photographed by Mr. C. P* Goer?., of 
Berl in -Sc hone berg, with bis AnschiiU apparatus. 
The rent notwithstanding, the balloon kept afloat for 
nine hours, going from Chariot ten burg to Annaberg, 
in Saxony. The lightning-rod of the shaft was much 
twisted by the strange collision. 

FrVM u PhuUi. by WullU *i Cv., ISitnittj/. 

This is Mr. James Burnside, of II, Ormerod Road, 
Burnley, Lanes, and here is his own account cf the 
startling incident: "On March 2nd* i&82 T f was at 
Windsor Station waiting to see the arrival of Ifer 
Majesty the *^neem I stood dialling near the book- 
ing-office door when I heard a loud report. I saw a 
man wilhin the harrier with a smoking pistol pointing 
straight at the advancing Royal carriage* The excite- 
ment was terrific. . . , * How r I managed to reach 
the assassin is utterly beyond me to relate. With one 
hand I seized the arm that held the revolver, and with 
the other I grasped the man's coat -collar. The n 
came the supreme moment of danger to the Queen* 
Her carriage was upon us, and the lunatic T Maclean, 
was struggling madly to raise his arm to fiie* 
Suddenly my strength returned, and I forced his arm 
down to my wn leg, and the peril was over." 


Photo, sent in by Mr, 
E B. Cooper, Box 23, 
U i ddel bu rg, Trans vaaL 
A [*arty of Boers was on E 
scouting during the Zout* 
panstarg 1 ron 1 4es in 1 S94 . 
Sii'iderdy the men were 
fired upon by Kaffirs. 
Qne bullet struck the 
foremost Boer, went 
through bis head, and 
then struck bis comrade. 
The latter had in his 
Docket this small Dutch 
Bible, The bu I let pierced 
the Sacred Book and 
then lodged in trc Boers 
stomach, carrying with 
it fragments of the Bible. 
It was, however, succlss 
fully e* fractal, and the 
farmer is now well and 
Strong again, his life 
having been saved by his L~ 

:-.,.- 1. 







These Are the children of the 
Marquis and Marchioness of 
Granny. They are Lady Victoria 
Manners, born in 1883 ; Lord 
I J addon, born in 1885, and who 
died a short time ago ; Lord John, 
born in lS#6 ; and Lady Violet 
Catherine, born in 188S. The 
children were photographed in the 
enormous silver punch -bowl, which 
holds fifty- two gallons, and is one 
of I he most inieresiing curiosities 
at Belvoir Castle* the Duke of 
Ku I land's (their grandfather^) 
splendid seat. This superb piece 
of plate contains I,o,Soqz, of silver, 
and cost jfsoa The handles are 
in the form of a peacock, and the 
bowl rests on four very massive 
eagles' claws. The bowl is usually 
to be seen u\\ a marble sidel>oard 
in the great dining-room at Belvoir, 
This very interesting photo, belongs 
to Miss Gardiner^ of 5, Chaucer 
Mansions, Queen *s Club Gardens, 
West Kensington j W. 

/'Aofu. by F. W. //nofuM^iKi, [*eietsttr. 

Grown by Mr. J. B. Swan, of Love land, Col. 
Weight, 861 K iooz. We Lul.c the following bom the 
Iwck of the original photo- : +t The L&vcland 
Reporter — * The Only Strictly Truthful Paper in 
Colorado* — under date of February 7th f 1895, said: 
This mammoth potato was shown in the ReporUt 
office for awhile, and we measured it- It was 3 Sin* 
in length and 14111. across." 

rhuio. bg EtU iuyhn r*f, UxbriJ^. 


We are indebted for this curiosity lo Mr* 11. 
Morten, of 28, High Street, U abridge. "The 
work ," he says, "is an example of patient industry. 
It is entirely composed of shells of various colours, 
and is mounted in a box frame with a gla^s front. It 
was made by Mrs. Sara Morten, of Amersham, 
Bucks, at the beginning of the century. Special 
interest attaches to the specimen from the fact that 
the old lady was verging tin ninety when she arranged 
the shells, and she worked entirely without the aid of 
spectacles/ 1 

I' nFW ^rifl^T-JO 



Hutto. bg A, U< TaUnt, LovtUtnd* t 

(""rw^nL'' Original from 





The Strand Magazine. 

Vol. xiv. 

AUGUST, ]8g7- 

No. 80. 

His First Love. 

By A, Blair Lees, 



HEY were sitting over their 
wine in Bryce's luxurious 
chambers — a party of men 
whom business or pleasure 
had kept in town during the 
festive season^ or who had not 
had sufficient inducements offered them to 
quit it. Bryce was laying down the law con- 
cerning The Flirting Woman in his own 
peculiar, dogmatic way. 

U A woman who flirts," he announced, in 
a tone of abso- 
lute finality, fc< a 
woman who de- 
liberately plays 
with a man's 
heart for her 
own amusement 
is capable of 
anything — any- 
thing/ from 
pocket - picking 
to murder- 57 

The men 
seated round 
the table ex- 
changed covert 
smiles. It was a 
jokeof old stand- 
ing amongst 
them that Bryce 
had been jilted 
by his first and 
only 1 o v e — 
hence this par- 
ticular bee in his 
bonnet, his con- 
firmed bachelor- , 

hood, and un chivalrous attitude towards the 
fairer half of creation. Gordon, a slim young 
banister, took up the cudgels on behalf of 
the sex* 

"Granted" — he said, with an engaging 
drawl — " that a woman has no more right to 
tamper with a man's heart than with his 
banking account — but you would never get 
the dear creature to understand the principle 
of the thing* Scores of women, who wouldn't 
stoop to wrong you of a halfpenny, would 

Vol *iy.-10 

break your heart without compunction out of 
sheer fun and kittenish perversity." 

Bryce shot a glance at the speaker— his 
dark eyes flashing with the vindictive bitter- 
ness that the subject always roused in him. 

" I say," he reiterated, with harsh 
emphasis, " that a deliberate flirt is capable 
of anything" 

" Yaas, dear fellow ! " drawled Gordon, 
sweetly, " we all heard you. Only — you 
can't prove it. 7 ' 

I - 


* Can't ? " 

" No, You assume, what is manifestly 
unfair, that a woman who is guilty of one 
trifling weakness is capable of all — is, in fact, 
utterly unprincipled. You can't make it good! 
How would you stand yourself, judged by 
the same slap-dash rule? And they do say, 
don't they, that flirting girls make the best 

"Would you care to run the risk?" asked 
his host, with a g .-Lkv- laugh. 




Gordon shrugged his shoulders. " In my 
humble opinion," he said, lightly, " the risk 
is inevitable — the results, a matter of degree. " 

A general laugh followed this precocious 

" What do you say, Ives ? " demanded 
Bryce, of a silent, keen-eyed man. " You 
are acquainted with the Indian variety of 
the tribe— you ought to know a little about 
the subject." 

Ives shook his head. " I'm no judge ! " 
he said, diffidently. " I have been up- 
country too long, and flirtation is a lost art 
in the remote stations — men can't very well . 
flirt with each other. My principal experi- 
ence of our fair exports was during the 
Mutiny ; and that is not exactly an honest 
test, you will agree." 

" Why not ? " sneered Bryce. 

Ives looked at him a little curiously before 
replying. " You men who sit at home at 
ease," he remarked, quietly, " rarely seem to 
grasp the intense gruesomeness of fighting ! 
Flirtation never stands that fiery ordeal. 
Love, real love, the genuine article, thrives 
and blossoms under the strangest conditions 
and in the grimmest scenes — its counterfeits 
wither at the first breath of a hostile cannon. 
Did you ever picture your ideal flirt — the 
woman with no good in her — in a beleaguered 
fort, among the unspeakable horrors of a 
siege— where the enemy's shells keep crash- 
ing through the walls in quite unexpected 
places, and the groans of wounded and dying 
men are the least alarming sounds? I 
thought not. I could tell you a story of a 
flirt I knew," he went on, twirling the stem 
of his wine-glass round and round between his 
fingers. "It may interest you. I don't 
think it will bore you. Did any of you know 
Jack Reeves ? " 

A subdued murmur of assent passed 
round. Jack Reeves was dead. Ives's eyes 
were on his glass, and he did not see the 
dark, painful flush that crept slowly over 
his host's face, nor the ashen pallor that 
succeeded it. 

" You know how he died, of course?" 

"We heard," said one of the men, with a 
slight effort, " that he and his wife were killed 
at the taking of some out-of-the-way fort by 
the rebels. It was a most deplorable affair." 

"It was. I was in it." 

" You ? " exclaimed Gordon. " It was 
reported that every one of the defenders was 
killed ! " 

" I daresay. It was not always easy to 
make out accurate reports just then — 
survivors had a disorderly knack of turning 

up, wounded and half-starved, after the 
despatches had been sent home. I ought to 
have been killed, no doubt, but I was 
knocked over in the thick of the last 
struggle, and fairly buried beneath a pile of 
rebel corpses. That saved me, I believe. 
The relief party we had been waiting for 
arrived on the scene half an hour too late. 
They routed the mutineers, and paid the last 
tribute of respect to their dead friends, and 
the men who meant to bury me brought me 
round again, instead. But enough of that ! 
— it is not an experience to linger over. 

" We were quite a nice little party at 
Jussulpur before the row broke out I was 
down on a visit to Jack. He had been home 
on furlough the year before, and brought a 
wife back with him. She was the most 
desperate flirt I ever met. Not one of those 
sparkling, piquant little creatures whom one 
instinctively expects to have some fun with, 
but 'a daughter of the gods, divinely fair.' 
A calm, statuesque beauty, with an oval face, 
grandly chiselled features, a perfect mouth, 
and wonderful, luminous grey eyes. 

" Old Major Gardner, who was in com- 
mand of the garrison, hated the sight of her. 
I soon found out why. She never descended 
to frivolity, or let men render her conspicuous 
by their attentions, but she would listen by 
the hour while a man poured out his home- 
sickness, his ambitions, his lofty aspirations, 
his yearnings after the ideal and any other 
beautiful sentiment he happened to possess ; 
and she would witch the heart out of him 
with the - subtle, exquisite sympathy that 
lurked in her marvellous eyes, and in the 
curves of her wistful, perfect lips. And then, 
some day, the unlucky wretch would lose his 
head, and she— she would lift her delicate 
eyebrows incredulously and freeze him into 

" Then the crash came. I won't bore you 
by going into that— it is ancient history by 
now ; but I should like to tell you how that 
woman died. For five weeks w r e held the 
tiny fort against a horde of rebels, and our 
slender garrison thinned daily. 

" The mutineers knew their business 
thoroughly — thanks to our careful training ! 
They planted their batteries on the roofs of 
neighbouring houses, and kept up a deadly fire 
on the fort. The havoc their shells wrought 
was frightful. Strong men were killed at their 
posts. Poor wretches who lay moaning in 
the 'hospital room' were hurled into eternity, 
together with the ministering women who 
bent over them, and the bodies were hastily 
buried in QKIfllfompound, after dark. Day 




by day our tanks thinned, and the situation 
became, if possible, more serious. We had 
got a messenger sent off to the nearest station 
for assistance^ but we neither knew whether 
he had got safely through the enemy's lines, 
nor whether he had found the other forts in 
the same plight as our own. 

11 It was a hideous experience. And 
through all the horror and carnage Mrs, 
Reeves passed calmly and serenely — like 
some fair star shining amid black clouds. In 
that terrible crisis, with that awful, palpable 
shadow of death hanging over us, all the 
falser side oF her nature seemed to slip away 
from her like an ugly mask— leaving only 
what was good, and womanly, and true. 
Nothing daunted her, nothing sickened her* 
Shu wont to and fro among the men, looking 
after their comfort, cheering the despondent ; 
always brave and hopeful herself, and infect- 
ing others with her own brightness* 

lt Her care for the wounded was most 
unwearying. She seemed to feel no fatigue 
where they were concerned, and tended them 
without a thought of the risk she often ran 
From flying bullets and 
other missiles. Their own 
mothers and sisters could 
not have done more for 
them than she did — or 
done it in a sweeter way. 
When food ran short, she 
evolved eatable meals for 
us out of most unpromising 
materials, and lived on the 
same bare rations as the 
rest, in spite of our pro- 

t; The men simply wor- 
shipped the ground she 
walked over, and would 
have followed the fur- 
lornest of forlorn hopes 
at her bidding. The 
Major's views concern ing 
her underwent a complete 
alteration. I saw him once 
dash his hand furtively 
across his eyes as he 
watched her supporting 
the head of a poor fellow 
dying of a gun-shot wound, 
and whispering gentle 
words into his ear I think 
he foresaw the end from 
the beginning ■ though — 
true old bulldog that he 
was I — he never admitted 
it The odds were too 

great even for British pluck and valour— 
unless help came soon. 

"The fort was a queer, rambling little 
affair, with a detached tower rising from an 
angle of the compound. Jack and I shared 
the same watch at night on the tower roof. 
Lung watches they were, as we grew short- 
handed, and weirdly still the nights seemed 
after the hideous din of the day-time — a cold, 
tense stillness, only broken by the howling 
of the jackals in the nullahs, and the com- 
paratively musical cries of the rebel sentries, 
And always, when we had been at our 
posts a little while, we would see her gliding 
towards us, shadowy and ethereal in the 
starlight— for the stars came but and shone 
down as serenely on us in our trouble, as on 
our gaieties of a month before. Years 
seemed to have elapsed since then ! And 
she would slip her hand through Jack's arm 
and lay her cheek against his sleeve, and 
watch with us — silent and intent as we were 
ourselves. There was no need for speech 
between those two. In the presence of the 
death-angel things clear marvellously. All 




their former differences dropped out of sight, 
forgiven and forgotten* Only their love 
remained, and if ever a man and woman 
understood each other, they did, They 
could read each other's hearts without a word 
spoken on either side. 

" She made it up to Jack then. She never 
hindered him, or un steadied his nerves with 
tears and lamentations ; she was the truest, 
bravest help- meet man ever had Once, near 
the end, when she thought herself unobserved, 
I saw her lay her head down on his shoulder 
and cry quietly And I saw the great tears 
rolling down his face as he bent over her— 
but I don p t believe it was a case of the 
'white feather"' with either of them. 

" Well, to cut it short, when the last day 
came, there were less than a dozen of us left 
— seven Englishmen, three of the faithful 
Sikhs, and Mrs. Reeves. Our position was 
practically hopeless. The Sepoys had taken 
the fort buildings after a lot of stubborn 
fighting, and heavy loss on our side. Only 
the isolated tower remained in our posses- 
sion, and to say 
that we were * in- 
trenched' in that 
picturesque, but 
highly incommo- 
dious, building 
would be a fine bit 
of poetic license. 
We were boxed up 
in it like rats in 
a trap. The end 
was, as the doctors 
say — ' merely a 
question of time/ 
unless help came, 
and of that we 
had begun to 
despair. It had 
become plain to 
us that our situa- 
tion was, in all 
probability, the 
rule and not the 
exception, and 
that the country 
must be in a state 
of revolt. We 
went about with 
grim faces in those 
days. We knew 
that we were 
doomed, but we 
meant to exact a 
high price for our 
lives, and had no 


notion of hurrying the final issue. The 
mutineers, to do them justice, were in no 
pressing hurry either. They appreciated the 
race sufficiently to know that a handful of 
half-starved and desperate Englishmen were 
likely to prove dangerous at close quarters, 
and they showed no indecent haste to come 
in and finish off the dying lion* 

£i They had us safe, and waited a day or 
two with the patience of an experienced 
grizzly sitting under his victim's bough — not 
venturing into the compound within range 
of our fire, but contenting themselves with 
shooting at us from the fort buildings. But 
when that last day dawned, we knew our 
time had come* There were unmistakable 
signs of activity in the enemy's camp* 

"They had dragged a couple of small guns 
into the two doorways opening on to the 
compound, and pounded away perse veringly 
at the tough old tower, chipping large pieces 
off the stones, without doing much damage. 
I don't fancy they cared to try shells at that 
short distance* Now and then their gunners 

showed them- 
selves, and gave 
us an opportunity 
of retaliation, of 
which we were not 
slow to avail our- 
selves, and we did 
plenty of promis- 
cuous shooting, 

"The stairs 
leading from the 
base of the tower 
to the roof were 
divided into two 
flights by a small 
room or landing, 
lit by narrow loop- 
holes, and shut off 
from the lower 
flight by a fairly 
strong door. The 
Major took up his 
position in this 
place with some 
of the men* Jack 
and I, with a 
couple of others, 
occupied the roof. 
"Jack was shoot- 
ing away with ap- 
palling regularity. 
The muscles of his 
good-natured face 
were set like iron, 
..*« UJifliDftl*" T| his eyes were glit- 





tering, his hands cool and steady. He used 
two weapons alternately, and his wife, with a 
resolute expression on her pale, beautiful 
face, stood quietly by him, loading while he 
fired, utterly regardless of the hail of bullets 
that struck the stonework around her. 

" All at once the guns ceased firing, and the 
supply of bullets began to slacken gradually, 
and shortly after we heard the Major's voice 
below, bellowing to us to come down. We ran 
to the staircase — or three of us did. Jack was 
turning slowly away from the parapet, when I 
saw him leap suddenly into the air, and fall 
back, stone dead, by his wife's side. Poor 
thing ! She sank down on her knees beside 
him with a cry that went to my heart. Still, 
1 could do nothing for her, so I went down 
to the Major. 

" He was greatly shocked at my news, but 
drew me hastily towards the loophole by 
which he was standing. 

" ' What do you make of their silence, 
Ives ? Can you guess what their next move 
will be?' 

" 1 could not, and told him so. 

" ' They mean to venture a little more on 
the stakes/ he said, with a grim smile. 'They 
are going to run a gun out into the open, in 
the face of our bullets, and pour a heavy fire 
into the door below. One round of gunners 
will suffice for the work, and they will doubt- 
less die happy in the knowledge that they 
are striking the hated Englishmen's death- 
blow. Then, the instant a breach is made 
in the door, the whole pack of fiends will 
swarm out of their cover and storm the 

" 'And we?' I asked, rather laconically — 
the programme was not inviting. 

"'The staircase is narrow,' he replied, 
sententiously. ' We have some ammunition 
left, and our swords. The first heroes 
through the breach will be the first in 

" ' And Mrs. Reeves ? ' I asked, with a 

" The old gentleman's brave face twitched 
slightly. I read in his eyes the terrible, 
inevitable reply, but before he could frame 
the words, a touch on his arm made him 
turn round. Mrs. Reeves stood behind us, 
very pale, but perfectly composed. 

" ' Major,' she said, ' my dear husband ' — 
her sweet voice faltered for a minute, then 
steadied itself — 'my husband promised that, 
if the worst came, he would keep his last 
bullet for me. May 1 now rely on you to 
do me this service ? You will not fail me ? ' 
she added, appealingly. 

" Her old enemy took the hand resting on 
his arm, and lifted it gently to his lips. 

" ' Madam ! ' he said, in his stately, old- 
fashioned way, ' I am honoured by your 
request. If the worst happens, as I greatly 
fear it will, you may rely on me. I will not 
fail you. But go back now — if — if I want 
you, I will call.' 

"She thanked him gratefully, and returned 
to her vigil on the roof. We turned back to 
our loophole — I think neither of us could 
have looked the other in the face just then, 
for our life's ransom. 

"Suddenly, a shout from the men at the 
opposite loophole, followed by the crack of 
their rifles, took us over to them. The gun 
on their side had been run out, as the Major 
predicted. Two of the gunners had already 
fallen. Two more rolled over lifeless as the 
gun was brought into position. The man 
who was pointing it fell by Major Gardner's 

" ' Quick ! Ives,' he cried ; ' the man with 
the match.' 

" I obeyed, but only succeeded in winging 
him. His right arm dropped at his side, but, 
with a defiant yell, he snatched at the match 
with his left and fired. There was a deafen- 
ing report, and a crashing of wood, followed 
by such a howl of triumph, as might have 
come from the throats of a legion of fiends. 

" ' To the stairs ! ' shouted the Major, 
heading the rapid descent. 

" We formed on the bottom steps, two 
abreast — just in time. On they came with a 
rush, leaping and yelling ; down they went 
before our fire. Twice we repulsed them, 
but each time the sea of dark, demoniac 
faces surged in again. On they came, leap- 
ing over the bodies of their fallen comrades, 
on to the very stairs where we stood. 

" The fight was a sharp and a terrible one. 
We fought as men are likely to fight in such 
a case, but we were outnumbered completely. 
Three of u§ fell. All of us were badly 
wounded. Every step of that winding stair 
was slippery with our blood. Inch by inch, 
we fought our way back to the landing— those 
that were left of us, four white men and Wo 

" On the threshold we paused a moment, 
and in obedience to the Major's command, 
emptied our last volley at the crowd. They 
cleared back a space, tumbling over one 
another, and we managed to close the door 
and drag the bars across. Then, as they 
rushed up again, on the other side, battering 
at the wood with horrid imprecations, we 

leant^^m^^i^^N spent - 




ammunition was gone ; we were all in a sorry 
plight. One of the Sikhs had sunk down 
half insensible ; the Major supported himself 
against the door, in little better case. 

u He pulled himself together with an 
effort, looked round at us with a sad smile, 
which had yet something of pride in it, and 
then he called out for Mrs, Reeves, He 
stood there, fingering his pistol nervously, 
his brave old face working. I have always 
thought that he meant to shqut her down as 
she turned the corner, to save her the 
torturing minute of anticipation, but she 
must have been near at hand, for when he 
looked up, she was standing on the bottom 
step— waiting I 

* ( I can never forget that weirdly terrible 
scene* It is fixed indelibly on rny brain. 
The crashing blows thundering on the door, 
the infernal yelling of the fiends outside of 
it, the gloomy landing 
with the fierce sunlight 
filtering through the 
narrow loopholes, the 
handful of desperate, 
doomed men, wounded 
and unsightly, the swarthy 
faces of the Sikhs ; and 
in the midst of it all, that 
fair young woman, her 
white dress torn and 
draggled and soiled with 
smoke and blood, her 
face utterly calm— stand- 
ing there, with- 
out a trace of 
fear, waiting for 
her death. 

" ( I am quite 
ready, Major, 1 
she said, simply. 

" T he men 
caught their 
breath sharply. 
One of them, a 
big Irishman, 
gave a loud sob, 
and crossed him- 
self. The Major 
could not speak. He made her a low bow — 
then, raising his weapon, he shot her through 
the heart. The next moment he fell himself, 
as the door burst open and the horde rushed 
in. The rest you know. 

"It is not a story to talk about. I never 
told it before for that reason ; but what Bryce 

said to-night made my blood boil, and 

Why, Bryce ! Bryce ! Surely, my dear 
fellow, you don't think I meant ■" 

Ives rose abruptly from his chair, and 
hurried round the table to his host. 

The other men, whose attention had been 
riveted on the story, followed his movements 
with startled eyes, then they got up too, and 
crowded round in consternation. 

Bryce had dropped forward with his arms 
on the table, his face buried in his hands. 
His breath came and went in long, shudder- 
ing sobs that shook his whole frame, and 
when they spoke to him, he seemed as if he 
did not hear. His vest was disordered, as 
though it had been hastily torn open, and on 
the table before him lay a jewelled miniature. 
IveSj glancing at it as he bent over his friend, 
drew back with a smothered exclamation. 

"Great Heaven !" he gaspedj with paling 
lips. " It is she ! " 

It was the portrait of a grandly beautiful 
girl, with a wistful, perfect mouth, and 

luminous grey 

Poor Bryce ! 
He had lived 
and loved — 
and lost! 

The men drew away from him 
reverently* They did what seemed 
the kindest thing, and slipped out 
of the room qdietly, leaving him 
alone with his dead. Not till they reached 
the door did even Gordon find his voice 
— and then he only said, * £ Poor old 
Bryce ! w 

Ives stood on the doorstep when they had 
all gone. He thought of the stricken man 
in his lonely room above, and a great flood 
of pity welled up in his heart. Perhaps he, 
too, had suffered — for he shut the door softly 


Glimpses of Nature. 

By Grant Allen. 

F you have ever visited the 
Alps in early spring, you will 
know well by sight the dainty 
little nodding bells of the alpine 
soldanella — twin flowers on 
one stalk, like fairy tocsins, 
which push their heads boldly through the 
ice of the neve, and form a border of blue 
blossoms on the edge of the snow-sheet 
Most people, to be sure, visit the Alps in 
August ; and they go too late. Autumn is 
the time when heather purples our bleak 
northern moors, but when the central 
mountain chain of Europe, so glorious in 
April, has become comparatively green and 
flowerless. If you wish to see what nature 
can do in the way of rock-gardens, however, 
you should go to Switzerland in early spring. 
It is then that blue gentians spread vast 
girdles. of blossom over the alpine pastures ; 
then that the green slopes on the mountain 
sides are yellowed by globe-flowers ; then 
that the poet's narcissus stars with its white 
petals and scents with its sweet perfume 
the rich meadows on the spurs of the lesser 
ranges. Higher up, sheets of creeping rock- 
plants, close clinging to the uneven surface, 
fall in great cataracts of pink and blue over 
the steep declivities. As the snow melts, 
upward, the flowers open in zones, one after 
another, upon the mountain sides, so that 
you can mark your ascent by the variations 
in the flora, and the different successive stages 
of development reached by the most persis- 
tent kinds at various levels. 

There is one adventurous little plant, how- 
ever, among these competing kinds, which in 
its eagerness to make the most of the short 
alpine summer does not even wait, like its 
neighbours, for the melting of the snow, but, 
vastly daring, begins to grow under the surface 
of the ice-sheet, and- melts a way up for itself 
by internal heat, like a vegetable furnace. It 
may fairly be called a slow-combustion stove, 
not figuratively, but literally. It burns itself 
up in order to melt the ice above it. This 
wonderful plant is the alpine soldanella, the 
hardiest and one of the prettiest of mountain 
flowers ; it opens its fringed and pensile blue 
blossoms in the very midst of the snow, 
often showing its slender head above a thin 

Vol. xiv.-M. 

layer of ice, where it fearlessly displays its 
two sister bells among the frozen sheet which 
still surrounds its stem in the most incredible 

So much every tourist to the Alps in May 
must have noticed for himself, for whenever 
he reaches the edge of the melting ice-sheet 
he can see the ice pierced by innumerable 
twin pairs of these dainty and seemingly 
delicate blossoms. Comparatively few 
observers, however, have proceeded to notice 
that the soldanella, fragile as it is, actually 
forces itself up through a solid coat of ice, 
not exactly by hewing its way, but by melt- 
ing a path for itself in the crystal sheet above 
it. Yet such is really the case ; it warms the 
ice as it goes. The buds begin to grow on 
the frozen soil before the ground is bare, 
under the hardened and compressed snow 
of the neve — which at its edge is always ice- 
like in texture. They then bore their way up 
by internal heat (like that of an animal) 
through the sheet that covers them ; and 
they often expand their delicate blue or white 
blossoms, with the scalloped edges, in a cup- 
shaped hollow above, while a sheet of re- 
frozen ice, through which they have warmed 
a tunnel cr canal for themselves, still 
surrounds their stems and hides their roots 
and their flattened foliage. This is so strange 
a miracle of nature that it demands some 
explanation ; the method by which the solda- 
nella obtains its results is no less marvellous 
than the results themselves which it produces. 

The winter leaves of soldanella, which 
hibernate under the snow just as truly as the 
squirrel or the dormouse hibernates Jn its 
nest, are large, leathery, tough, and ever- 
green. They are, in fact, just living reservoirs 
of fuel (like the fat of the dormant bear), 
which the plant lays by during the heat of 
summer in order to burn it up again in spring 
for the use of its flowers. When I use this 
language, you will think at first I am speaking 
figuratively. But I am not ; I mean it in 
just as literal a sense as when I say that the 
coal in the tender of a locomotive serves as 
fuel for the engine, or that the corn in the 
bin of a stable serves as fuel to heat the 
horse's body. These leaves contain material 
laid by for burning ; and it is by burning 

by LiOOgle 

■-■ I I '_| 1 1 I u I l l ■_' 




that material up at the proper period that 
the soldanella manages to melt its way out of 
the wintry ice-sheet, and so to steal a march 
upon competing species. 

The process requires explanation, I admit ; 
let us try to understand it. Everybody 
knows, as a matter of common experience, 
that animals are warmer in winter than the 
air # which surrounds them; warm-blooded 
animals, that is to say, which form the only 
class most people trouble about. Not 
everybody knows, however, that the same 
thing is more or less true of plants as 
well — that many plants have the power of 
evolving heat for themselves in considerable 
quantities. But this is actually true ; indeed, 
all growing parts of a stem or young leaf- 
shoot must necessarily be slightly warmer 
than the air around them. For, when you 
come to think of it, whence do animals 
derive their heat ? " From the oxidation 
of their food," the small boy of the day, 
crammed full of knowledge, will tell you, 
glibly. And what do you mean by oxidation 
but very slow burning? You may take a 
load of hay, and set a match to it, and it will 
burn at once quickly, by combining with the 
oxygen of the air in the open ; or you may, 
if you choose, give it to a pair of horses to 
eat instead, and then it will burn up slowly, 
by combining with the oxygen of the air m 
their bodies. Lungs, in fact, are mere 
devices for taking in fresh oxygen, which 
then combines with the food or fuel in the 
blood of the animal. But whether you burn 
the hay slowly in a horse's body, or burn it 
fast in a fire, the main results are the same ; 
you reduce the whole in the end to water 
and carbonic acid (with a few by-products), 
and you evolve an exactly equal amount of 
heat in the total process. 

A century ago, Count Rumford pointed 
out that you might burn your hay as you 
chose, either in a horse or in a steam-engine ; 
and that in either case you produced alike 
heat and motion. What we call fuel is just 
carbon and hydrogen, separated from oxygen ; 
and what we call burning or combustion is 
just the re-union of the oxygen with the 
other elements, accompanied by a giving-off 
of heat equivalent in amount to that originally 
required in order to separate them. 

Now, the foodstuffs of most animals are 
plants or parts of plants, especially seeds or 
grains, as well as the rich stores of starch or 
oil laid by in roots, bulbs, and tubers. These 
are all of them reservoirs of food or fuel, 
produced by the plant for its own future 
growth, and meant hereafter to sprout or 

germinate. • All seeds, when they begin to 
quicken, unite with oxygen and evolve heat ; 
and this heat is just the same in nature, 
whether it happen to be set free within 
or without an animal body. If you give an 
ox corn, he will oxidize it internally and 
"warm his own body with it; but if you let it 
germinate, it will oxidize itself, and so pro- 
duce a very small but slow fire, which warms 
both the corn and the space around it. 
Similarly, all growing shoots combine with 
oxygen, and, therefore, rise in temperature. 
In early spring, when the ground just teems 
with sprouting seeds and swelling buds, with 
growing bulbs or shooting tubers, the tem- 
perature of the soil is sensibly raised ; and 
this very heat, evolved by germination, be- 
comes itself in turn a cause of more germ- 
ination ; each seed and root and bulb and 
sucker helps to warm and start all the others. 
Spring largely depends upon the warmth 
thus produced. The earth, during this orgy 
of growth, is warmer by a good deal than 
the air about it ; warmer even than it is in 
summer weather — indeed, were it not for the 
number of plants which thus start growing at 
once, growth would be almost impossible in 
very cold countries. Like roosting fowls, 
they warm one another. 

You think, however, the amount of heat 
that can be thus evolved must be very insig- 
nificant. By no means. Take an example 
in point. What do we mean by malting? 
We collect together a number of seeds or 
grains of barley, we wet them thoroughly, 
and allow them to begin germinating. Each 
grain individually gives out only a small 
amount of heat, it is true : but when many 
of them lie together, the total volume of 
heat produced is very great, and the amount 
would be even greater if it were not 
artificially checked at a certain stage : for 
the maltster does not wish his malt to be 
14 over-heated." Malt, then, is nothing more 
than sprouting barley ; and the heat it begets 
in the process of malting shows us very 
clearly how much warmth exists in sprouting 
seeds, or in the growing portions of young 
plants, buds, shoots, and tubers. 

At the risk of seeming tedious in this 
preliminary explanation, I must also add that 
flower-buds and flower-stems which grow and 
open very rapidly must similarly use up 
oxygen in their growth, and therefore dis- 
tinctly rise in temperature. In a very few 
large and conspicuous flowers, such as the 
big white calla lily, this rise in temperature 
during the flowering period can be measured 
even with an ordinary thermometer. No bud 

by L^OOgle 





can open without giving out heat ; and the 
amount of heat is sometimes considerable. 

And now, I hope, we are in a position to 
understand how soldanella acts 3 and why it 
does so. It is a plant which grows under 
peculiarly trying conditions. It has to eke 
out a livelihood in the mountain belt, just 
below the snow-line ; and it is a low-growing 
type, which must flower early, or else it would 
soon be overshadowed by taller rivals. For 
growth is rapid in the Alps, once the snow 
has melted. Soldanella has thus to blossom, 
and to secure the aid of its insect fertilizers, 
at the precise moment when they emerge 
from their cocoons in the first warm days of 
the short alpine summer* If it waited later 
it would be overtopped and obscured in a 

plants ; and the soldanella has a type of 
leaves admirably adapted to its peculiar 
purpose : expanded in the sunlight, they eat 
carbon and hydrogen the live-long summer, 
and turn the combined oxygen loose upon 
the air under the influence of the sun. By 
the time winter comes, they are thick and 
leathery, filled with fuel for the spring, and, 
of course, evergreen. They have also long 
stalks, which enable them during the summer 
to stretch up to the light; but in autumn, 
they descend and flatten themselves against 
the soil, so as not to be crushed by the snows 
of winter. The first of my illustrations 
(No. 1) shows a group of these fat leaves, 
seen from above, and flattened against the 
ground in expectation of the snow-sheet. 


very few days by the dense and rapid growth 
of waving grosses, and aspiring globe-flowers, 
and long-stalked, bulbous plants that crowd 
all round it. So the soldanella seizes its one 
chance in life at the earliest possible moment, 
and makes haste to pierce its way through 
the solid ice sheet, while lazier rivals passively 
await its melting. That alone has secured 
its survival and success in the crowded world 
of the alpine pastures. For you must not 
forget that while to you and me the Alps are 
an unpeopled solitude, to the alpine plants 
they are a veritable London of competing 

The canny plant lays its plans deep, too, 
and begins well beforehand. It has made 
preparations. All the previous summer it 
has been spreading its round leaves to 
the mountain sun, and laying by materia! 
for next year's flowering season, Leaves, 
you know, are the mouths and stomachs of 


The material laid by in the thickened 
leaves consists of starches, protoplasm, and 
other rich foodstuffs, The snow falls, and 
the leaves, protected by their hard and 
leathery covering, remain unhurt by it The 
food and fuel they have gathered is stored 
partly in the foliage and partly in the swollen 
underground root-stock. All winter through, 
the plant is thus hidden under a compact 
blanket of snow, which becomes gradually 
hard and ice-like by pressure. But as soon 
as the spring sun begins to melt the surface 
at the lower edge of the sheet, water trickles 
down through cracks in the ice, and sets the 
root stock budding. It produces, in fact, the 
very same effect as the water which we pour 
upon malting barley in order to make it 
germinate. And the same result follows, 
though here more definitely, for the soldanella 
has collected its material deliberately as fuel, 
and uses it up on purpose to melt its passage. 
Original from 



It absorbs oxygen from the rtir below the 
snow, combines it with the fuels in its own 
substance, evolves heat from their combina- 
tion, and begins to send up its nodding 


flower-buds through the icy sheet that spreads 
above it 

The warmth the plant obtains by this 
curious process of slow internal combustion it 
first employs to melt a little round hole in the 
ice for its arched flower-buds (No. 2). At the 
beginning, the hollow which is formed above 
each pair of buds is hemispherical or dome- 
shaped ; the stem pushes it way up through 
a dome of air inclosed in the ice; and the 
water it liberates trickles down to the root, 
thus helping to supply moisture for further 
growth with its consequent heating* But by- 
and-by the stem lengthen s T and the bud is 
raised to a considerable height by its con- 
tinuous growth. Still, so slight is the total 
quantity of heat the poor little plant can 
evolve with all its efforts, that by the time the 
stem is an inch or two long, the lower part of 
the tunnel has curiously frozen over again, by 
the process which Tyndall called ^reg ela- 
tion/' and whose importance in glacier action 
he so fully demonstrated. In this stage, 
then, the melted space is no longer a dome ; 
it assumes the form of a little balloon or 
round bubble of air, surrounding the flower- 
bud. At the same time, the ice beneath, 
ha vine; frozen again, almost touches the stem, 
so that the bud seems to occupy a small, clear 
area of its own in the midst of the sheet, 
with ice above, below, and all round it (No. 3), 
You would say that growth under such circum- 

stances, in almost icy-cold air, was impossible 
—but if you examine the ice-sheet at the edge 
of the neve, you will find it studded by 
hundreds of such bubbles, each inclosing 
an uninjured soldanella bud in its centre. 
The reason is that the heat from the flower 
keeps the inclosed air just above freezing- 
point j and so long as it is not actually frozen, 
soldanella is indifferent to the cold of its 

Gradually, in this way, the little buds 
manage to bore their way to the surface and 
to the sunshine on the outside of the ice-sheet. 
At last the stalk melts its path out, and a 
flower appears on the top, in the centre of a 
small cup-shaped or saucer- shaped depression 
(No. 4). The exquisite blue bells are thus 
seen blooming in profusion, apparently out of 
the ice itself, or as if stuck into it. Unless 
you looked close, and noticed that their 
stems came from the ground beneath, you 
might even imagine they were rooted in the 
crystal mass of the n$v£* The edge of the 
snow-field in early spring is often pierced and 
riddled by hundreds of such soldanella 
borings; others above are in process of 
formation : and if you cut a piece open you 
will see inside how each is produced, with its 
narrow tunnel below, its balloon in the 
centre, or later, its saucer-shaped depression 
on the surface. Moreover, if you look at the 

"- m 






foliage on the bare ground beneath, you will 
find that, when the flowers open, the leaves 
are no longer thick and swollen. All the 
fuel they contained has by this time been 
Original from 





burned up for warmth ; all the formative 
material has been duly employed in making 
the buds or blossoms, with the stems that 
raised them ; and nothing now remains 
but drained and flaccid skeletons, from 
which every particle of living matter has 
been withdrawn and utilized. Later on, 
new leaves are produced in turn from 
the root-stocky after the ice has melted ; 
and these new leaves, raising themselves on 
their long stalks, and catching the sunlight, 
begin afresh to accumulate material for next 
year's growth and next year's burning. 

But why do the flowers want so much to 
reach the open air at all ? Why should they 
not blossom contentedly under the inclosing 
ice-sheet ? A glance at No. 6 will serve to 
explain the reason* Flowers, after all, are 
mere devices for the fertilization of the fruit ; 
it is the seeds and the next generation that 
the plant itself is mainly thinking about. 
The blossoms of soldanella are noticeable to 
us lordly human beings chiefly because they 
are so pretty ; they have a delicate blue 
or violet corolla, exquisitely vandyked at 
the edge, and divided (on a closer view) 
into five more or less conspicuous lobes ; 
so it is their colour and their daintiness 
that make us so much admire them. Hut 
to soldanella itself— which, after all, has 
to earn its livelihood with difficulty on a 
stern and rocky soil — this beauty that charms 
us is a mere matter of advertisement. The 
plant wants its blossoms to attract the early 
spring bees and honey-sucking flies, which 
carry pollen from head to head, and so 
fertilize its seeds for it. And fertilization, to 

the practical -minded plant, is the whole root 
of the question. It cares no more for the 
beauty of its flowers in themselves than the 
British manufacturer of cocoa or soap cares 
for the gorgeous colours and striking designs 
he lavishes on his advertisements, u Use 
Jones's Detergent w is the key-note of the 
poster. The object of an advertisement is 
to catch the eye and secure the money of 
customers ; the object of the flowers, for all 
their beauty, is just equally to catch the eye 
and secure the visits of the fertilizing insects* 
No- 5 shows how all this is managed. 
At the very same time that the soldanella 
raises its timid flowers, the bees and flies 
a little lower down the mountain sides 
are just escaping from their cocoons as 
full-fledged winged insects. It is for their 
sakes alone that the pensive blossoms tint 
themselves in blue or violet; for you will 
find throughout nature that blue is the true 
bee colour ; and flowers that depend most 
for fertilization on bees or their allies are 
almost always decked out in blue or purple. If 
you examine a soldanella closely, too, yuu will 
see that all its parts are exactly adapted to the 
shape and organs of its most frequent visitor, 
here represented in the act of rifling its honey. 
Its bell-shaped blossoms just fit the insect in 
size \ its stamens shed pollen just where his 
hairy body is adapted to receive it; its sensitive 
stigma is so arranged that he rubs the golden 
grains off on the receptive surface of the 
next flower he visits. Then the little capsules 
swell, and the seeds ripen ; and the happy 




Original from 



soldanella, becoming a fertile mother of 
future generations, has fulfilled the main 
purpose of its stormy existence, 

Sometimes, however, the ice-sheet above 
is too thick to pierce ; and then the bud, 
after making manful efforts to melt its way 
out to the open air, is forced to give up the 
attempt in despair, and unfold its petals 
within its icy cavern. In that case, of course, 
no insect can visit it; and such cloistered 

but to secure the aid of its established 

You must not suppose, however, that in 
doing all this the soldanella is displaying any 
extraordinary amount of unusual originality- 
Its speciality consists merely in the somewhat 
abnormal volume of heat which it generates, 
A great many plants, indeed, proceed much 
as the soldanella does in the matter of laying 
by materials for future growth in the leaves, 


blossoms are therefore obliged to have 
recourse to the inferior expedient of self- 
fertilization. I say inferior, because all 
higher plants strive as far as possible to 
produce seedlings which shall be the off- 
spring of a distinct father and mother. 
The last illustration (No. 7) shows two 
flowers which have lengthened their stalk in 
vain to the furthest point for which they 
possess material, but have failed to melt a 
way out of the solid ice-sheet They are 
therefore driven to curl round the tips of 
their stamens and fertilize themselves ; a 
process which almost always produces 
inferior seeds and very weak seedlings- It is 
in order to prevent such disastrous results 
on a large scale, and to avoid the evils 
of constant *' breeding in and in," that 
soldanella has invented its curious device 
for pushing its way boldly through its native 
ice-sheet to the sky and the insects. It goes 
there, not to look beautiful for you and me, 

by Oc 


and using these up in the act of flowering- 
Take, for example, the famous and often 
somewhat exaggerated case of the so-called 
"aloe," or American agave. It is commonly 
said that " the flowering of an aloe " takes 
place but once in a hundred years. This is 
a poetical fiction. As a matter of fact, the 
agave flowers on an average after fifteen or 
twenty years ; and then dies down utterly. 
Every visitor to Italy or the Riviera knows this 
huge plant well— a gigantic house-leek in form, 
with its big spiny leaves and its points sharp 
as a needle, which defend it as by a bristling 
row of bayonets. Now, the agave lays by 
its material for future growth in the thickened 
base or lower portion of its leaves ; it thus 
forms a huge rosette, very much swollen and 
enlarged at the bottom. For years it goes 
on with exemplary patience, collecting 
supplies for its one act of flowering ; then 
at last, feeling its time has come, it suddenly 
sends up a huge stalk, or trunk, like a vast 

Original from 


J 35 


candelabrum, fifteen, twenty, or even thirty 
feet high, and supporting at its top a 
great bunch of big yellow blossoms. This 
enormous stem, with its colossal cluster 
of branching blossoms, takes only a 
few weeks to grow ; and as it rises 
and flowers, or still more as the immense 
capsules ripen their seeds, the bases of the 
leaves, once swollen and thick, become by 
degrees flaccid and empty. The stem and 
blossoms have drained them dry. At last, as 
the seeds fall, the whole 
plant dies away, having 
used itself up for ever 
in its one great act of 
flowering, just as the 
egg - laying rose - aphis 
uses itself up in its orgy 
of motherhood. 

Now, this is much the 
same as the way in which 
soldanella behaves, ex- 
cept that soldanella con- 
tinues to flower, spring 
after spring, for many 
years together. It does 
not exhaust itself in a 
single blossoming. 
Otherwise, the two 
plants, though so dif- 
ferent in size, behave in 
much the same general 
fashion. For agave 
must necessarily evolve 
a great deal of heat 
during its rapid flowering 
period; but this heat is 
useless to it, as heat, just 
as the heat we evolve 
in running a race is, 
as such, of no advantage to us. The main 
difference here is that soldanella has need of 
the heat, and employs it deliberately for its 
own purposes. That constitutes the really 
curious part of the performance ; soldanella 
intentionally lays by rich living material, not 
only for growth, but also for fuel. It uses up 
part of its stock merely as building material 
for the stem and flowers ; but it respires with 
part just as truly as you and I do — combines 
it with oxygen to form carbonic acid, and so 
to liberate heat ; and gives off the heated 
product on purpose as an ice-melter. As the 
flower- bud grows, it keeps on respiring ; and 
it is this respiration that produces the heat to 
melt the dome -shaped or balloon -shaped 
cavity within which the flower continues to 

Nor is such a rise of temperature in the 




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opening flowers by any means confined to 
soldanella. Almost all flowers, it is prohabIe r 
arc rather warmer under certain circum- 
stances than the air about them, exactly as 
almost all animals are, Indeed, you cannot 
have growth without a corresponding degree 
of warmth. Bell-shaped flowers, such as the 
foxglove, often display a sufficient amount 
of heat within their hanging heads to be 
measured by a thermometer, because their 
peculiar shape and their downward position 
are favourable for keep- 
ing the heated air un- 
disturbed within them, 
The peculiarity of the 
soldanella thus resolves 
itself into this : that it 
alone of its type has 
learned how to employ 
this rise of temperature 
to the best purpose, 
and to melt a way for 
itself through the edge 
of the ice-sheet In the 
struggle for existence, 
every point of advantage 
any creature possesses 
must tell in its favour, 
and the soldanella has 
thus been enabled to 
hold its own bravely in 
the intermediate belt at 
the margin of the ice- 
field. But its limits are 
narrow. In the open 
ground it is soon lived 
down by more hardy 
kinds, which rise higher 
into the air ■ its range 
is almost entirely 
bounded by a narrow belt just where the ice 
is melting. Above that point it cannot 
grow ; below it, taller enemies soon oust and 
dispossess it. It utilizes its short time 
between these two impossibilities- 
Strange as it sounds, too, the ice itself acts 
as a sort of protective blanket or coverlet to 
the trustful soldanella. Only a plant that 
could pierce the ice could ever have hit upon 
such a paradoxical mode of warming itself 
by its own internal combustion. If a herb 
that flowers in the open were to make experi- 
ments in warming itself in the same manner, 
its attempt would necessarily fail, because as 
fast as it heated the air, the wind would 
blow the heated portion away, and the 
plant would therefore derive no benefit 
from its expenditure of fuel But we all 
know how Esquimaux can live in a 
Original from 




snow hut, keeping it warm inside by their 
own breath and the heat of their bodies. 
It is just the same in principle with the 
soldanella's ice-cave. The little dome or 
cavern gets warmed within by the respiration 
of the flower-bud ; and the heat thus pro- 
duced is retained within the walls of the 
cavity. It is almost as though a mouse or 
other small animal were to try to bore a path 
for itself through an ice-barrier, not by 
gnawing the ice, but by breathing upon it 
slowly till it melted. And the soldanella, we 
must remember, breathes just as truly as the 
mouse, though it breathes not with a mouth, 
but from all its surface. 

See, then, how absolutely the soldanella 
behaves like a man who is making a 
conservatory. It lays by fuel for the 
stove in its leaves to keep its flower- 
buds warm and to force them in spring, 
at a time when they could not blossom 
without the artificial heat thus supplied them. 
It keeps in this heat within a transparent 
covering, the doors of which are never opened. 
As for light, that reaches it through the 
crystal summit. But it employs the heat 
also to bore its way out ; and, as its ultimate 
object is to get its young seeds fertilized, it 
finally pushes its flowers out into the open 
air, where they may receive the attentions of 
the fertilizing insects— just as the gardener 
does, without knowing why, when he wishes 
seed set. The pendent bell-shaped blossoms, 
again, even after they open, are admirably 
adapted for keeping in the heat ; and they 
are also exactly fitted to the shape and size of 
the bees and flies that act as their chartered 
carriers of pollen. A plant, in short, has to 
accommodate itself at every point ■ to the 
needs of its situation ; it has to secure for 
itself a firm foothold in the soil, and a due 
share of food from the surrounding air (for its 
diet after all is chiefly gaseous) ; it has to 
provide for its marrying and giving in 
marriage ; it has to take care that its pollen 
shall be duly dispersed, and its seedlets 
fertilized ; and finally it has to see that its 
young are satisfactorily settled in the world, 
and deposited on likely spots where they can 
germinate to advantage. It must be a good 
parent as well as a prudent and cautious 

The struggle for life carried on under these 
circumstances has sharpened the wits of 
plants to a far higher degree than most people 
imagine. Plants have developed almost as 
many dodges and devices for securing food 
or avoiding enemies as animals themselves 
have ; and this single instance enables us to 
see with what forethought and cleverness 
they often provide against adverse chances. 
Soldanella, indeed, could not exist at all upon 
its ice-clad heights if it did not lay up food 
and fuel in summer against the needs of 
winter, like the bee and the ant ; if it did not 
burn up its own fat for warmth, like the 
dormouse ; if it did not tunnel the ice as the 
mole tunnels the earth ; if it did not retire 
beneath the snow-sheet on the approach of 
winter as the queen wasp retires into the 
shelter of the moss when frosts begin to kill 
her worker sisters, or as the squirrel retires into 
his holt in a tree at the approach of Decem- 
ber. Ancestral instinct teaches the one just 
as much as it teaches the other ; and those 
who have closest watched the habits and 
manners of plants have the highest respect 
for their industry and intelligence. 

Looked at from this point of view, we 
may consider- indeed that every seed, bulb, 
or tuber is not merely a reservoir of material 
for future growth, but also a reservoir of fuel 
for supplying the heat necessary to the first 
stages of sprouting or germination. And 
without elaborating this question further, I 
may add that if you will examine closely 
many early spring buds and flowers, especially 
such as willow and hazel catkins, you will 
find not only that they are formed over 
winter and inclosed in warm overcoats to 
protect them from the cold, but also that 
they grow in spring before the air is warm 
enough to stimulate growth directly — or in 
other words, that they depend in part for heat 
on the consumption of their own internal 
fuels. You must thus give up the idea that 
plants are quite cold-blooded and passive 
things ; you must remember that they can 
to some extent warm themselves ; a con- 
spicuous example of such warming being 
given us by soldanella, which manages not 
only to grow under thick ice, but even to 
melt its way up through the inclosing sheet 
by internal combustion. 

by Google 

Original from 

The Oklahoma Boomers. 

By George Dollar. 

of April 22 
but prairie 

GME, according to the old 
saying, was not built in a day, 
but there are two towns in the 
United Suites, to mention no 
more, which were built in an 
afternoon. On the morning 
nd, 1889, these towns were nothing 
land, with no signs of civilization — 

bounded on the north by Kansas and 
Colorado, on the west by Texas and 
New Mexico, on the south by Texas and 
the Indian territory, and on the east by the 
Indian territory alone. It was originally 
set apart by the Government for the Indian 
tribes, but, through purchase from the Indians, 
it was opened for settlement by Presidential 

From d / Viufi.. by 7. Vnrflt tAlqhuma City, Q, T. 

lifeless patches in a flat and fertile country. 
But at four o'clock in the afternoon they 
were teeming with population. Streets were 
marked out, municipal governments chosen, 
banks, post-offices, gambling saloons, and 
other conveniences of a motley civilization 
had been erected ; and at evening, the sun, 
which had risen upon an empty land, set 
upon thousands of excitable men, women, 
and children, rough wooden houses, and 
myriads of tents. 

This is no fairy tale + The names of the 
places are Guthrie and Oklahoma City, and 
the story of their foundation and settlement 
by the *' Oklahoma boomers" lacks a parallel 
in the history of any other land. On any 
modern map, the Territory of Oklahoma may 
be found. It now contains 39,030 square 
miles. It is in the southern middle part 
of the United States, and is at present 

proclamation on April 22nd, 1889. An Act 
of Congress, called the lt homestead law," 
authorizes and regulates the sale of public 
lands, in parcels of 160 acres each, to actual 
settlers ; and it was under this Act that 
more than 50,000 people gathered on the 
borders of Oklahoma eight years ago, ready 
for a grand rush for homes and wealth into 
the "promised land." 

The " Oklahoma boomer " was not, how- 
ever, like his towns, the product of a day, 
He was the child of several years of trouble. 
When the Indians in 1856 decided to sell 
their land, a Bill was rushed through Congress 
granting to the Atlantic and Pacific Railway 
the right of running across the territory, but 
the Courts decided that the land could not be 
thrown open except by proclamation, and 
that the railway charter would be forfeited 




From a Photo, bt T. Cro/l, Qkiahmtm OUv* 0. T. 

now believed that the railway secretly hired 
men to break into the country; In the spring 
of 1880, a man named Payne and a band of 
followers evaded the troops and started a 
town, but they were soon landed in prison. 
Their release gave a great " boom n to Okla- 
homa, and larger bands of dangerous men 
invaded the territory, only to be arrested or 
expelled by the Government. The con- 
tinuous agitation of the " boomers n had a 
cumulative effect. Discontented people from 
all over the States began to look upon 
Oklahoma as a paradise and the healer of 

all woes. The proclamation of President 
Harrison brought the excitement to a head, 
and for weeks before the opening day, the 
borders of Oklahoma were jammed. One 
man, with his w T ife and children, had been 
living there for over two years in a van t 
waiting for the day of days. The night 
before the opening, thousands of * 4 boomers n 
paraded along the border, singing, shouting, 
and making a deafening din to mark their 
arrival, and scores of camp-fires lit up the 
prairie for miles around, 

The signal for the opening of Oklahoma 

^UM L 

rtfatffcfc&f ffW A 1 * 'V***^' ' ' ' "A* 9 * 


Prom a Photo, fcf T. Qrufc Oklahoma 





JYwn a Pfcrfot fry T, Cix*fl, OUalww CU Vt a T, 

was to be a gun-shot, and as midday 
approached the excitement was intense. 
Swift horses, good for a long gallop across 
the prairie, were sold at enormous prices* 
Affectionate family partings took place, and 
wives and children were sent to the rear 
where the caravans were waiting. Some 
bloodshed occurred between desperadoes at 
the head of the line. This was held by 
men on horseback, and light carriages* Some 
2,000 troops were necessary to keep the 
u boomers " in order, and to see that no one 
started before twelve o'clock. A railway 
company had made preparations to move 

fusion prevailed* 
the ground in 
cloud of dust 
riders from view, 

5,000 settlers with 1,000 
car-loads of furniture* 
The trains due to start 
at twelve o'clock were 
crowded with passengers. 
Hundreds climbed to the 
top of the carriages and 
hung on for dear life, and 
the cow - catchers were 
jammed with people, 
huddled together like 
locusts. It was a rest- 
less, swaying throng* The 
future towns had already 
been selected for settle- 
ment, and the first man 
who got there would get 
the finest M claim-" 

At twelve the gun was 
promptly fired, and the 
booming of cannon an- 
nounced the opening of 
the promised land. Al- 
most indescribable con- 
The leading horses took 
a dead gallop, raising a 
that nearly covered the 
Collisions occurred, but 

oaths were lost in the deafening noise. 
The trains whizzed along with their sway- 
ing crowds, but the horses had the best 
of it* One man ran down the railway line 
for six miles, with a tent, blankets, camp 
dishes, and provisions for two days on 
his back, and arrived at his claim in sixty 
minutes. One of the leaders in the grand 
rush was a daring girl, who secured the best 
lot in Guthrie. The riders were followed by 


by V^ 


»*m a rhuio. fry T. Cwjh OkUshoTna GVy, \k \f\\ o I 





T ^Xii"gp 


a procession of waggons three miles long, con- 
taining Furniture and food for the u boomers." 
One li boomer " carried over the border n 
load of coffins, which met with a ready sale, 
Five brothers who were accompanying a 
caravan disputed with some neighbours 
regarding the right of way; and three of the 
brothers were killed. It was a remarkable 
scene of hurry and dust, reddened here and 
there by the flow of blood. 

The advent of the " boomers " into (Juthrie 
and Oklahoma City was, unfortunately, 
anticipated by the "sooners." These were 
men who had been hiding in the territory ? 
or who had slipped over the border in 
defiance of the troops. The result was that, 
when the "boomers'' got to the site of their 
intended cities, they found that the l( sooners " 
had pre-empted the finest claims. Disgust 

and rage were therefore followed by a 
general scramble for the remaining lots. 
Tents were quickly erected and sticks 
stuck into the ground to denote ownership. 
It was safer, too, for the owner to stay 
where he was and hold guard over his claim. 
Many of the " boomers 35 erected signs on their 
lots, with humorous inscriptions such as, 
11 Keep off the Grass," "This is Mine, Eli," 
and " Don't Monkey with the Owner of this 
Lot" A ghastly spectacle was the figure of 
a man hanging from a pole with a black cap 
over his head and a sign on his breast, saying, 
"Property Must Be Protected." It effec- 
tively scared away intending thieves, but it 
was merely a dummy, used in odd moments 
as a punching bag. 

Hut these odd moments were very few. 
" Boomers " were scampering about trying to 


■ —I. 


tfrem a I'lmto. by W- A. Mower, (iitihTie, Oi^rjgjnal from 

by LiO J 





Frum a rhobtffraph. 

buy and sell lots, and many thousand 
dollars passed hands in an afternoon. The 
land office which was erected for the purpose 
of registering names and claims was besieged 
for hours by a throng of excited applicants. 
Lawyers did a rattling business in making out 
papers and settling disputes, and the citizens 
in general turned their attention towards a 
municipal election, In Guthrie, nearly 100,000 
votes were polled. A bank was also started 
with fifty thousand dollars (,£10,000) capital 
A daily paper, called the Oklahoma Herald, 
was issued during the afternoon, and 
thousands of handbills of all descriptions 

were scattered among the "boomers/' showing 
that various trades had been successfully 
started and shops opened. 

The inevitable reaction began in three 
days. Water grew scarce, and was sold for a 
dollar a bucketful. Food sold at famine 
prices, and eggs, fit only for theatrical 
purposes, brought unheard-of sums. The 
M boomers JJ had discovered that Oklahoma 
was not a paradise, that the available 
fertile territory could not begin to accom- 
modate the 50,000 "boomers" who had 
crossed the border, and that starvation 
stared them in the face. The railway was 


jtartft Phot*. iww*a. pi™»r t ^arifr'iacnrial fron 




utterly unable to cope with the exodus. 
Building-lots, bought for big prices, were 
sold dirt cheap. A Wisconsin "boomer" sold 
two (iuthrie lots, one tcnt T thirty shillings' 
worth or blankets, and a week's provisions 
for less than a sovereign, and kicked the dust 
of Oklahoma from his heels. Dusty sand- 
wit lies were being hawked about for a shilling 
apiece, and pork and beans retailed at three 
shillings a plateful The red dust of the 
prairies got into everything, made the drink 
ing water turbid, and created sickness in the 
child population. It took mhhc time for the 
•* boomers " to sink wells, but when these 
were sunk a temporary relief was gained. 
By this time, however, the outgoing trains 
had taken away thousands, and the borders 
of the territory, which hut three days 
previously had witnessed a tremendous 
influx of expectant home-seekers, now wit- 
nessed an exodus of discouraged men and 
women. This exodus was hastened by a 
furious storm of red sand, which came with the 
suddenness of a plague upon the population. 
There were many, however, who remained, 

and the rapidly growing cities of Oklahoma 
Territory stand as a witness of remarkable 
enterprise and courage, Oklahoma City, 
which, in an afternoon, had taken on the 
appearance of a thriving town, was in five 
short weeks a prominent centre of persevering 
civilization. To-day it has over 5,000 popula- 
tion. The capital, Guthrie, has a population 
of over 3,000, and in the whole territory, 
according to returns in 1890, there were 50 
banks, 280 post-offices, 10 daily newspapers, 
and nearly 80,000 school children. 

These figures have lately been much ex- 
panded. In September, 1893, a portion of 
the Indian territory, popularly called " the 
Cherokee Strip," and much coveted by dis- 
appointed " boomers/' was opened to the 
public, and the stirring scenes that accom- 
panied the opening of Oklahoma were 
repeated* The "strippers/' as the settlers 
were now nicknamed, rested on the borders 
for weeks, and then made a rush across. 
Towns sprang up like mushrooms, thousands 
of people found homes and happiness, and a 
few found early graves. 



K^^tS K&1 

•^^ P * F - 





1 H 



From a Phat& 6f W+ A* JT»w, G*tkri^ <X S, 

by Google 

Original from 

The Tragedy of the Korosko. 

By A. Conan Doyle. 

O the Korosko had been taken, 
and the chances of rescue 
upon which they had reckoned 
— all those elaborate calcula- 
tions of hours and distances — 
were as unsubstantial as the 
mirage which shimmered upon the horizon. 
There would be no alarm at Haifa until it 
was found that the steamer did not return in 
the evening. Even now, when the Nile was 
only a thin green band upon the horizon, the 
pursuit had probably not begun. In a 
hundred miles at the furthest they would be 
in the Dervish country. How small, then, 
was the chance that the Egyptian forces 
could overtake them. They sank into a 
silent, sulky despair, with the exception of 
Belmont, who was held back by the guards 
as he strove to go to his wife's assistance. 

The two bodies of camel-men had united, 
and the Arabs, in their grave, dignified 
fashion, were exchanging salutations and 
experiences, while the negroes grinned, 
chattered, and shouted, with the careless 
good humour which even the Koran has not 
been able to alter. The leader of the new- 
comers was a greybeard, a worn, ascetic, high- 
nosed old man, abrupt and fierce in his 
manner, and soldierly in his bearing. The 
dragoman groaned when he saw him. 

" It is the Emir Abderrahman," said he. 
" I fear now that we shall never come to 
Khartoum alive." 

The name meant nothing to the others, 
but Colonel Cochrane had heard of him as a 
monster of cruelty and fanaticism, a red-hot 
Moslem of the old fighting, preaching dis- 
pensation, who never hesitated to carry the 
fierce doctrines of the Koran to their final 
conclusions. He and the Emir Wad Ibrahim 
conferred gravely together, their camels side 
by side, and their red turbans inclined 
inwards so that the black beard mingled with 
the white one. Then they both turned and 
stared long and fixedly at the poor, head- 
hanging huddle of prisoners. 

Copyright, 1897, by 

" Who's that nice-looking old gentleman 
in the white beard ? " asked Miss Adams. 

"That is their leader now," Cochrane 

" You don't say that he takes command 
over that other one ? " 

" Yes, lady," said the dragoman. " He is 
now the head of all." 

" Well, that's good for us. Anyhow, I had 
rather be in his power than in the hands of 
that black-haired one with the flint eyes. 
Sadie, dear, you feel better now it's cooler, 
don't you ? " 

"Yes, auntie; don't you fret about me. 
How are you yourself ? " 

" Well, I'm stronger in faith than I was. 
I set you a poor example, Sadie, for I was 
clean crazed at the suddenness of it, and at 
thinking of what your mother, who trusted 
you to me, would think about it. My land, 
there'll be some head-lines in the Boston 
Herald over this ! I guess somebody will 
have to suffer for it." 

" Poor Mr. Stuart ! " cried Sadie, as the 
monotonous voice of the delirious man came 
again to their ears. " Come, auntie, and see if 
we cannot do something to relieve him." 

" I'm uneasy about Mrs. Shlesinger and the 
child," said Colonel Cochrane. " I can see 
your wife, Belmont, but 1 can see no one 

"They are bringing her over," cried he. 
" Thank God ! We shall hear all about it. 
They haven't hurt you, Norah, have they ? " 
He ran forward to grasp and kiss the hand 
which his wife held down to him as he helped 
her from the camel 

The kind, grey eyes and calm, sweet face 
of the Irishwoman brought comfort and 
hope to the whole party. She was a devout 
Roman Catholic, and it is a creed which 
forms an excellent prop in hours of danger. 
To her, to the Nonconformist minister, to 
the Presbyterian American, even to the two 
Pagan black riflemen, religion in its various 
forms was fulfilling the same beneficent office 
— whispering alwa.ys triut the worst which the 




iHtv haven't hurt voir, nokaii, have inky? 

world can do is a small thing, and that however 
harsh the ways of Providence may seem, it 
is, on the whole, the wisest and best thing for 
us that we should go cheerfully whither the 
Great Hand guides us. They had not a 
dogma in common, these fellows in mis- 
fortune, but they held the intimate, deep- 
lying spirit, the calm, essential fatalism which 
is the world-old framework of religion, wiih 
fresji crops of dogmas growing like ephemeral 
lichens upon its granite surface. 

tf You poor things," she said. u I can see 
that you have had a much worse time than I 
have. No, really, John, dear, I am quite 
well — not even very thirsty, for our party 
filled their water-skins at the Nile, But I 
don't see Mr* Headingly and Mr, Brown, 
And poor Mr. Stuart— what a state he has 
been reduced to ! " 

"Headingly and Brown are yut^qfj their 

C 3 

troubles/' her husband answered. " You 
don't know how often I have thanked God 
to-day, Norah, that you were not with us. 
And here you are, after all," 

" Where should I be but by my husband's 
side? I had much, much rather be here than 
safe at Haifa.* 

" Has any news gone to the town ? " asked 
the Colonel. 

" One boat escaped, Mrs, Sblesinger and 
her child and maid were in it I was down- 
stairs in my cabin when the Arabs rushed 
on to the vessel. Those on deck had time 
to escape, for the boat was alongside. The 
Arabs fired at them for some time." 

"Did they?" cried Belmont, exultantly, 
his responsive Irish nature catching the sun- 
shine in an instant, t( Then, be Jove, we'll 
do them yet, for the garrison must have heard 
the firing, What dye think, Cochrane? 




They must be full cry upon our scent this 
four hours. Any minute we might see the 
white pugaree of a British officer coming 
over that rise." 

But disappointment had left the Colonel 
cold and sceptical. 

'*They need not come at all unless they 
come strong," said he, "These fellows are 
picked men with good leaders, and on their 
own ground they will take a lot of heating." 
Suddenly he paused and looked at the Arabs, 
" By George ! ,J said he. " That's a sight worth 
seeing ! fJ 

The great red sun was down with half its 

and it was with their backs to the sun and 
their faces to the central shrine of their 
religion that they prayed. And how they 
prayed, these fanatical Moslems ! Wrapt, 
absorbed, with yearning eyes and shining 
faces, rising, stooping, grovelling with their 
foreheads upon their praying carpets* Who 
could doubt as he watched their strenuous, 
heart-whole devotion that here was a great 
living power in the world, reactionary but 
tremendous, countless millions all thinking as 
one from Cape Juby to the confines of China ? 
Let a common wave pass over them, let a 
great soldier or organizer arise among them 

was THF hoi; it ok a hat* i»k-\vfh. 

disc slipped behind the violet bank upon the 
horizon. It was the hour of Aral) prayer, 
An older and more learned civilization would 
have turned to that magnificent thing upon 
the skyline and adored that But these wild 
children of the desert were nobler in 
essentials than the polished Persian. To 
them rhe ideal was higher than the material, 

Vol. xW*- 19. 

to use the grand material at his hand, and 
who shall say that this may not be the besom 
with which Providence may sweep the rotten, 
decadent , impossible, half-hearted south of 
Europe, as it did a thousand years ago, 
until it makes room for a sounder stock? 

And now &$. they, rose to their feet the 
bugle rang out, antf?h£ ri 3fftoners understood 




that, having travelled all day, they were fated 
to travel all night also. Belmont groaned, 
for he had reckoned upon the pursuers 
catching them up before they left this camp. 
But the others had already got into the way 
of accepting the inevitable, A fiat Arab 
loaf had been given to each of them — what 
effort of the chef of the post-boat had ever 
tasted like that dry brown bread ! — and then, 
luxury of luxuries, they had a second ration 
of a glass of water, for the fresh-filled bags of 
the new-comers had provided an ample supply. 
If the body would but follow the lead of the 
soul as readily as the soul does that of the 
body, what a heaven the earth might be ! 
Now, with their base material wants satisfied 
for the instant, their spirits began to sing 
within them, and they mounted their camels 
with some sense of the romance of their 
position, Mr. Stuart remained babbling 
upon the ground, and 
the Arabs made no 
effort to lift him into 
his saddle. His large, 
white, upturned faee 
glimmered through 
the gathering dark- 

11 Hi, dragoman, tell 
them that they are 
forgetting Mr. Stuart," 
cried the Colonel. 

li No use, sir," said 
Mansoor. "They say 
that he is too fat, and 
that they will not take 
him any further. He 
will die, they say, 
and why should they 
trouble about him ? " 

" Not take him ! " 
cried Cochrane. 
" Why, the man will 
die of hunger and 
thirst, Where's the 
Emir? Hi!" he 
shouted, as the black- 
bearded Arab passed, 
with a tone like that 
in which he used to 
summon a dilatory 
donkey-boy. The 
chief did not deii^n In 
answer him, but said 
something to one of 
the guards, who 
dashed the butt of his 
Remington into the 
Colonel's ribs, The 

old soldier fell forward gasping, and was carried 
on half senseless, clutching at the pommel of 
his saddle. The women began to cry, and 
the men with muttered curses and clenched 
hands writhed in that hell of impotent 
passion, where brutal injustice and ill-usage 
have to go without check or even remon- 
strance. Belmont gripped at his hip-pocket 
for his little revolver, and then remembered 
that he had already given it to Miss Adams, 
If his hot hand had clutched it, it would 
have meant the death of the Emir and the 
massacre of the party. 

And now as they rode onwards they saw 
one of the most singular of the phenomena 
of the Egyptian desert in front of them, 
When the sun had sunk, the horizon had 
remained of a slaty-violet hue. But now 
this began to lighten and to brighten until a 
curious false dawn developed, and it seemed 

by Google 






as if a vacillating sun was coming back along 
the path which it had just abandoned. A 
rosy pink hung over the west, with beautifully 
delicate sea-green tints along the upper edge 
of it. Slowly these faded into slate again, 
and the night had come. It was but twenty- 
four hours since they had sat in their canvas 
chairs discussing politics by starlight on the 
saloon deck of the Korosko. What a world 
of fresh impressions had come upon them 
since then ! How rudely they had been 
jostled out of their take-it-for-granted com- 
placency ! The same shimmering silver 
stars, the same thin crescent of moon — but 
they, what a chasm lay between that old 
pampered life and this! 

The long line of camels moved as noise- 
lessly as ghosts across the desert. Before 
and behind were the silent, white figures of 
the Arabs. Not a sound anywhere, not the 
very faintest sound, until far away behind 
them they heard a human voice singing in a 
strong, droning, unmusical fashion. It had 
the strangest effect, this far-away voice, in 
that huge, inarticulate wilderness. And then 
there came a well-known rhythm into that 
distant chant, and they could almost hear the 
words : — 

We nightly pitch our moving tent, 
A day's march nearer home. 

Was Mr. Stuart in his right mind again, or 
was it some coincidence of his delirium, that 
he should have chosen this for his song ? 
With moist eyes his friends looked back 
through the darkness, for well they knew thai 
home was very near to this wanderer. 
Gradually the voice died away into a hum, 
and was absorbed once more into the 
masterful silence of the desert. 

14 My dear old chap, 1 hope you're not 
hurt ? " said Belmont, laying his hand upon 
Cochrane's knee. 

The Colonel had straightened himself, 
though he still gasped a little in his 

" Would you show me which was the man 
who struck me ? " 

** It was the fellow in front there— with his 
camel beside Fardet's." 

" The young fellow with the moustache — 
I can't see him very well in this light, but I 
think I could pick him out again. Thank 
you, Belmont ! " 

" But I thought some of your ribs were 

" No, it only knocked the wind out of 

"You must be made of iron. It was a 
frightful blow." 

by Google 

The Colonel cleared his throat and 
hummed and stammered. 

i4 The fact is, my dear Belmont — I'm sure 
you would not let it go further — above all 
not to the ladies ; but I am rather older than 
I used to be, and rather than lose the 
military carriage which has always been dear 
to me, I " 

"Stays, be Jove!" cried the astonished 

" Well, some slight artificial support," said 
the Colonel, stiffly, and switched the conver- 
sation off to astronomy. 

It still comes back in their dreams to 
those who are left, that long night's march in 
the desert. It was like a dream itself, the 
silence of it, as they were borne forward 
upon those soft, sponge feet, and the flitting, 
flickering figures which oscillated upon every 
side of them. The whole universe seemed 
to be hung as a monstrous time-dial in front 
of them. A star would glimmer like a 
lantern on the very level of their path. They 
looked again, and it was a hand's' breadth up, 
and another was shining beneath it. Slowly 
they would swing across the heaven, first 
climbing, then hanging long with little 
apparent motion, and then sinking grandly 
downwards, until away in the east the first 
cold grey glimmer appeared, and their own 
haggard faces shocked each other's sight. 

The day had tortured them with its heat, 
and now the night had brought the even 
more intolerable discomfort of cold. The 
Arabs swathed themselves in their gowns and 
wrapped up their heads. The prisoners beat 
their hands together and shivered miser- 
ably. Miss Adams felt it most, for she was 
very thin, with the impaired circulation 
of age. Stephens slipped off his Norfolk 
jacket and threw it over her shoulders. 
He rode beside Sadie, and whistled and 
chatted to make her believe that her aunt 
was really relieving him by carrying his 
jacket for him, but the attempt was too 
boisterous not to be obvious. And yet it 
was so far true that he probably felt the cold 
less than any of the party, for the old, old 
fire was burning in his heart, and a curious 
joy was inextricably mixed with all his mis- 
fortunes, so that he would have found it 
hard to say if this adventure had been the 
greatest evil or the greatest blessing of his 
lifetime. Aboard the boat, Sadie's youth, 
her beauty, her intelligence and humour, all 
made him realize that she could at the best 
only be expected to charitably endure him. 
But now he felt that he was really of some 
use to her ? that every hour she was learning 


1 48 



to turn to him as one turns to one's natural 
protector ; and above all, he had begun to 
find himself- -to understand that there really 
was a strong, reliable man behind all the 
tricks of custom which had built up an 
artificial nature which had imposed even 
upon himself A little glow of self-respect 
began to warm his blood. He had missed 
his youth when he was young, and now in 
his middle age it was coming up like some 
beautiful belated flower* 

"I do believe that you are all the time 
enjoying it, Mr. Stephens," said Sadie, with 
some bitterness, 

11 1 would not go so far as to say that/' he 
answered. " But I am quite certain that I 
would not leave you here." 

It was the nearest approach to tenderness 
which he had ever put into a speech, and the 

girl looked at him in sur- 

" I think I've been a very 
wicked girl all my life," she 
said, after a pause. " Because 
I have had a good time my- 
self, I never thought of those 
who were unhappy. This 
has struck me serious. If 
ever I get back I shall be 
a better woman — a more 
earnest woman — in the 

" And I a better man. I 
suppose it is just for that 
that trouble comes to us. 
Look how it has brought 
out the virtues of all our 
friends. Take poor Mr, 
Stuart, for example. Should 
we ever have known what a 
noble, constant man he was ? 
And see Belmont and his 
wife, in front of us, there t 
going fearlessly forward, 
hand in hand, thinking only 
of each other. And Coch- 
rane, who always seemed 
on board the boat to be a 
rather stand offish, narrow 
sort of man ! Look at his 
courage, and his unselfish 
indignation w T hen anyone is 
ill-used. Fardet, too, is as 
brave as a lion. ' 1 think 
misfortune has done us all 

Sadie sighed, 
" Yes, if it would end 
right here one might say 
so. But if it goes on and on, and then 
ends in death, I don't know where we reap 
the benefit of those improvements of character 
which it brings. Suppose you escape, what 
will you do ? n 

The lawyer hesitated, but his professional 
instincts were still strong. 

£1 1 will consider whether an action lies, and 
against whom. It should be with the 
organizers of the expedition for taking us to 
the Abousir Rock — or else with the Egyptian 
Government for not protecting their frontiers. 
It will be a nice legal question. And what 
will you do, Sadie ? " 

It was the first time that he had ever 
dropped the formal Miss, but the girl was too 
much in earnest to notice it. 

" I will be more tender to others," she 
said l( I ©Wginijsl fro make someone else 




happy in memory of the miseries which I 
have endured." 

And now the long, cold, weary night was 
over, and the deep blue - black sky had 
lightened to a wonderful mauve-violet, with 
the larger stars still glinting brightly out of it 
Behind them the grey line had crept higher 
and higher, deepening into a delicate rose- 
pink, with the fan-like rays of the invisible 
sun shooting and quivering across it. Then, 

suddenly they felt 

its warm touch 
upon their hacks, 
and there were 
hard black sha- 
dows upon the 
sand in front of 
them. The Der- 
vishes loosened 
their cloaks and 
began to talk 
cheerily among 
themselves. The 
prisoners also 
began to thaw, 
and eagerly ate 
the doora which 
was served out for 
their breakfasts* 
A short halt had 
been called, and 
a cup of water 
served out to each, 

" Can I speak to 
you, Colonel Coch- 
rane?' 1 asked the 

"No, you 
can't," snapped 
the Colonel 

" But it is very 
important — all our 
safety may come 
from it." 

The Colonel 
frowned and pulled 
at his moustache. 

"Well, what is it ? ?1 he asked, at last. 

11 You must trust to me, for it is as much to 
me as to yon to get back to Egypt My wife 
and home, and children, are on one part, and 
a slave for life upon the other. You have no 
cause to doubt it ? M 

"Well, go on!" 

" You know the black man who spoke with 
you — the one who had been with Hicks?" 

" Yes, what of him ? " 

" He has been speaking with me during 
the night. I have had a 

He said that he could not very well under- 
stand you s nor you him, and so he came 
to me," 

"What did he say?" 

"He said that there were eight Egyptian 
soldiers among the Arabs — six black and two 
fellaheen. He said that he wished to have 
your promise that they should all have very 
good reward if they helped you to escape-" 

"Of course they will" 


" M>U HIM TlrtibT TO Mh 

long talk with him. 

"They asked for one hundred Egyptian 
pounds each-" 

"They shall have it." 

" I told him that I would ask yon, but that 
I was sure that you would agree to it" 

u What do they propose to do ? " 

"They could promise nothing, but what 
they thought best was that they should ride 
their camels not very far from you, so that if 
any chance should come they would be 
ready to take advantage/ 1 

u Well, jSrotiiwsJ IgQUtP him and promise 




two hundred pounds each if they will help 
us. You do not think we could buy over 
some Arabs ? " 

Mansoor shook his head. " Too much 
danger to try/ 7 said he, and strolled off to 
where Tippy Tilly was grooming his camel 
and waiting for his reply. 

The Emirs had intended to halt for a half- 
hour at the most, but the baggage-camels 
which bore the prisoners were so worn out 
with the long, rapid march, that it was clearly 
impossible that they should move for some 
time. The two chiefs shook their heads 
when they inspected them, and the terrible 
old man looked with his hard-lined, rock 
features at the captives. Then he said 
something to Mansoor, whose face turned a 
shade more sallow as he listened. 

"The Emir Abderrahman says that if you 
do not become Moslem, it is not worth while 
delaying the whole caravan in order to carry 
you upon the baggage-camels. If it were 
not for you, he says that we could travel 
twice as fast. He wishes to know, therefore, 
once for ever if you will accept the Koran." 
Then in the same tone, as if he were still 
translating, he continued: "You had far 
better consent, for if you do not he will most 
certainly put us all to death." 

The unhappy prisoners looked at each 
other in despair. The two Emirs stood 
gravely watching them. 

"For my part," said Cochrane, "I had as 
soon die now as be a slave in Khartoum." 

" What do you say, Norah ? " asked 

" If we die together, John, I don't think I 
shall be afraid." 

" It is absurd that I should die for that in 
which I have never had belief," said Fardet. 
" And yet it is not possible for the honour of 
a Frenchman that he should be converted in 
this fashion." He drew himself up, with his 
wounded wrist stuck into the front of his 
jacket. "Jc suis Chrttien. Jy rested he cried. 

" What do you say, Mr. Stephens ? " asked 
Mansoor, in a beseeching voice. " If one of 
you would change, it might place them in a 
good humour." 

" No, I can't do it," said the lawyer, 

" Well, then, you, Miss Sadie ? You, Miss 
Adams? It is only just to say it once, and 
you will be saved." 

"Oh, auntie, do you think we might?" 
whimpered the frightened girl. 

The old lady threw her arms round her. 

" No, no, my own dear little Sadie," she 
whispered. " You'll be strong ! You would 

Digitized by ^OOgTe 

just hate yourself for ever after. Keep your 
grip of me, dear, and pray if you find your 
strength is leaving you. Don't forget that 
your old aunt Eliza has you all the time by 
the hand." 

For an instant they were herojc, this line 
of dishevelled, bedraggled pleasure -seekers. 
They were all looking Death in the face, and 
the closer they looked the less they feared 
him. They were conscious rather of a feeling 
of curiosity, together with the nervous tingling 
with which one approaches a dentist's chair. 
The dragoman made a motion of his hands 
and shoulders, as one who has tried and 
failed. The Emir Abderrahman said some- 
thing to a negro, who hurried away. 

"What does he want a scissors for?" 
asked the Colonel. 

" He is going to hurt the women," said 
Mansoor, with the same gesture of impotence. 

A cold chill fell upon them all. They 
stared about them in helpless horror. Death 
in the abstract was one thing, but these 
insufferable details were another. Each had 
been braced to endure any evil in his own 
person, but their hearts were still soft for 
each other. The women said nothing, but 
the men were all buzzing together. 

"There's the pistol, Miss Adams," said 
Belmont. " Give it here ! We won't be 
tortured ! We won't stand it ! " 

" Offer them money, Mansoor ! Offer 
them anything ! " cried Stephens. " Look 
here, I'll turn Mohammedan if they'll 
promise to leave the women alone. After 
all, it isn't binding — it's under compulsion. 
But I can't see the women hurt." 

" No, wait a bit, Stephens ! " said the 
Colonel. " We mustn't lose our heads. I 
think I see a way out. See here, dragoman ! 
You tell that grey-bearded old devil that we 
know nothing about his cursed tinpot religion. 
Put it smooth when you translate it. Tell 
him that he cannot expect us to adopt it 
until we know what particular brand of rot 
it is that he wants us to believe. Tell him 
that if he will instruct us, we are perfectly 
willing to listen to his teaching, and you can 
add that any creed which turns out such 
beauties as he, and that other bounder with 
the black beard, must claim the attention of 

With bows and suppliant sweepings of his 
hands the dragoman explained that the 
Christians were already full of doubt, and that 
it needed but a little more light of knowledge 
to guide them on to the path of Allah. The 
two Emirs stroked their beards and gazed 
suspiciously at them, Then Abderrahman 



'5 1 


spoke in his crisp, stern fashion to the 
dragoman, and the two strode away together, 
An instant later the bugle rang out as a 
signal to mount, 

" What he says is this," Mansoor explained, 
as he rode in the middle of the prisoners, 
"We shall reach the wells by mid-day, and 
there will be a rest. His own Moolah, a 
very good and learned man, will come to 
give you an hour of teaching. At the end 
of that time you will choose one way or the 
other. That is his last word,*' 

11 They won't take ransom ? n 

"Wad Ibrahim would, but the Emir 
Abderrahman is a terrible man. I advise 
you to give in to him." 

" What have you done yourself? You are 
a Christian, too." 

Mansoor blushed a little. 

" I was yester- 
day mornirig. 
Perhaps I will be 
to-morrow morn- 
ing. I serve the 
Lord as long as 
what He ask 
seem reasonable; 
but this is very 

He rode on- 
wards amongst 
the guards with 
a freedom which 
showed that his 
change of faith 
had put him 
upon a very 
different footing 
to the other 

So they were 
to have a re- 
prieve of a few 
hours, though 
they rode in that 
dark shadow of 
death which was 
closing in upon 
them. What is 
there in life that 
we should cling 
to it so ? It is 
not the plea- 
sures, for those 
whose hours are 
one long pain 
shrink away 
screaming when they see merciful Death 
holding his soothing arms out for them. It 
is not the associations, for we will change all 
of them before we walk of our own wills 
down that broad road which every son and 
daughter of man must tread. Is it the fear 
of losing the I, that dear, intimate I, which 
we think we know so well, although it is 
eternally doing things which surprise us ? Is 
it that which makes the deliberate suicide 
cling madly to the bridge-pier as the river 
sweeps him by? Or is it that Nature is so 
afraid that all her weary workmen may 
suddenly throw down their tools and strike, 
that she has invented this fashion of keeping 
them constant to their present work ? But 
there it is, and all these tired, harassed, 
humiliated folk rejoiced in the few more 
hours of suffering which were left to them. 

byO <ntc 



Side - Shows. 


By William G. FitzGerald. 

HE magnates of the entertain- 
ment world are always on the 
look-out for something new in 
the way of dog shows, Nothing, 
they will tell you, pleases the 
public so well as a novel dog 
show j and certainly nothing brings in money 
so fast as a troupe of dogs who perform 
sensational or funny feats. There are men 
at this moment scouring the world for likely 
dogs — literally seeking their fortune among the 
il friends of man." I have a case in my mind. 
Far away in a remote village of the 
Austrian Tyrol there lived a lonely old man 
whose sole companion was a noble collie. 
That dog could do almost anything you 
could think of. He did all the marketing 
necessary j knowing the value of money, and 
being well able to count, He could walk on 
any number of legs, from one to four, and 
he would take the few visitors who penetrated 
to that sweet, old-world spot on "personally 
conducted" tours to the caves in the vicinity. 
Well, as usual, the roving agent came and 
saw, and eventually con- 
quered the old man's reluct- 
ance to part with his all but 
human companion ; and that 
beautiful collie may now be 
seen among a well-known 
troupe of dogs, whose feats 
have delighted not merely 
London, but every capital in 

As to the charges of cruelty 
that have been levelled against 
dog-trainers, I can say nothing, 
Possibly harsh treatment is 
resorted to in order to perfect 
the animals in their feats. At 
any rate, of this 1 am certain, 
that when once a dog has 
been trained to go through a 
performance, he is thereafter 
treated in the way a loving 
mother treats her child. Not, 
perhaps, for the dog's own 
sake, but because he is a 
valuable possession. Mr. 
K^m, the owner of tin? dog 
shown on this paqe, has taken 
an almost incredible amount 
of pains with the training of 
M Boy," the champion dog 
jumper of the world 

Our reproduction is from a remarkably 
successful photograph, showing Boy taking 
a flying Jeap over a tremendous hurdle, 
nearly r2ft. high. This great jump, however, 
can only be accomplished in the open air, 
where there is no lack of space, and plenty 
of soft turf to fall upon* Seven or eight feet 
is the average high jump of a first-rate 
performing dog upon the stage of a theatre, 
Showmen fortunate enough to possess dogs 
like the champion, Boy, can speedily amass 
a fortune. In addition to the enormous 
salaries paid by the premier variety theatres 
for such "turns," there are almost unlimited 
private engagements for fetes, garden-parties, 
and similar functions- 
There are many entertainers throughout 
the world who depend largely for success 
upon the comical: extravagance of their 
appearance. Nowadays, however, much is 
expected in this direction if a show is 
even to pass muster, much less make a hit. 
The Phoite Pinaud troupe of eccentric 
comedians comes well up to the standard of 

by Google 

THE CHAMPION LrtiG ]L r *l] J liK OF "I rufc WOKLt). 





(Phoitt I Wml Troupe,) 
From a Photo, by J. R Stead, tftw York 

comicality. Two of them have been specially 
photographed in New York, and here they 
are. The dude, whose appearance is de- 
cidedly impressive* sings a pathetic love- 
song, accompanying it with many excruciat- 
ingly funny cranings of his altitudinous neck 
and spasmodic jerkings of his limp arms. 
This great swell, one ought to mention, is 
partly human and partly mechanical 

The same applies to his consort, the 
hilarious person next depicted, The antics 
of the pair must be seen to be appreciated. 
After several songs and dances they take 
part in a miniature drama, the hero (save the 
mark I) being our friend the dude. 

On witnessing the performance of various 

animals, from elephants down to mice, 

people are apt to ask, "Is there any central 

depot from which these animals may be 

procured 'ready made,* so to speak? 11 

There is. The depot, however, is not in 

England, It is Carl Hagenbeck'5 wonderful 
Vol iW.-ag, 

establishment in Hamburg. Hagenbeck's 
catalogue, which lies before me as I write, 
is a very interesting document. " Group 2/' 
I notice, consists of five lions, three tigers, 
one leopard, two bears, and four German 
boarhounds — u All properties" (£&, already 
trained to perform) ; ** one central cage and 
two new caravans included ; the lot, ^2,750," 

The photo, reproduced on the next page 
shows what curious and striking things in the 
way of performing animals are to be seen at 
Herr Hagen beck's unique emporium. We 
see a particularly fine Folat bear mounted 
upon a specially made tricycle, The huge 
animal propels the machine by means of the 
pedal-cranks, on which his front paws rest* 
To avoid any hitch in the inauguration of the 
show, a powerful hound is always in attend- 
ance to give the necessary initial impetus to 
the whole concern- The lion seen on the 
left, behind the resolute and fearless lady- 
trainer, also takes his turn at cycling, He is* 
moreover^ a far more tractable pupil than the 
Polar bear, whose .treachery and ferocity are 
a continual menace to the trainer. 

At all times, and from all climes, strange 


(Pboite E'iuaud Troupe.) 


1 54 


From a I'hvto. by] 


and wonderful argosies are on their way to 
Herr HagenbeeL In his last letter he writes : 
" Three of my people are just coming home 
from South Russia with a herd of twenty-six 
camels. . . My brother is leaving Ceylon 
with several elephants, buffaloes, zebras, 
dwarf donkeys, and over 600 reptiles. He 
is bringing with him six natives to help him 
en route. . . Four elephants are on their 
way from Burmah to Hamburg via London, 
. . , I have now three collectors in 
Siberia and two in the Caucasus, One man 
has just left for California to fetch a herd of 
sea-lions for my 
Arctic Panorama 
which opens in 
Vienna ; and my 
agents in high 
latitudes have 
orders to procure 
twenty young 
Polar bears," 
This gives some 
idea of the inter- 
esting nature of 
the side-show 

Our next photo. 
is decidedly im- 
pressive, and was 
taken in Hamburg 
specially for this 
article. It depicts 
a massive little 
chariot, drawn by 
a pair of fine tigers 
and driven by 

ol unamiable 
It will be ob- 
served that 
Cresar wears 
his imperial 
crown and 
mantle with a 
noble grace, 
and that the 
footmen in 
upon this 
equipage are 
a couple of 
hounds. I 
may remark 
here that these 
hounds are 
detectives in disguise, so to speak* Their 
duties as footmen are purely ornamental, 
their real raison d^Hre becoming more 
obvious when the lions or tigers begin to 
look " ugly," In other words, the hounds are 
mainly kept in the show for the protection 
of the trainer. 

The performing eagles seen in our next 
two reproductions are the only ones in the 
world, 'They were brought to England three 
or four years ago by their trainer^ Professor 
I^angeneck, w T ho received ^40 a week for 
the show. The Professor had altogether ten 

\ThOfl. IlcifHeri, JfafnbKtff. 

.tfnpiTt- a 


CtSAK's IMP&MAI O H,;*lu 1 \' I'll LSAaat Jfcwm ft , Hmttiwrg, 




eagles, but two or 
more out of this 
number would always 
be sulky, so that rarely 
more than eight of the 
birds performed at 
one time. They were 
Russian eagles, and 
they gave their show 
in a huge cage - net, 
erected primarily for 
the protection of the 

The training of these 
birds, the Professor 
assures us, was a 
heart - breaking busi 
ness. They much 
preferred eating meat, 
and when they weren't 
eating they were either 
sulking or fighting 
desperately among 
themselves, Many a 
scar has Professor 
Langeneck to show how he dashed in amidst 
the furious wings and murderous talons and 
beaks of the whirling combatants. 

In the first photo, we see the eagle named 
41 Billy " firing off a revolver. He doesn't 
like doing it To do anything but eat is a 
bore, and then, besides, the pistol makes 
such a frightful row. When it comes to 
Billy's turn you can see he is reluctant. He 
was just picking a 
quarrel with " Jimmie," 
we will say, when he 
received his cue — a 
more or less gentle 
prod. He hops awk- 
wardly up the steps, 
bends down to the 
weapon — probably to 
sight it— and the next 
moment a deafening 
report tells that Billy 
has done what was 
required of him. 

The second photo, 
here reproduced shows 
two more of the per- 
forming eagles, one on 
the revolving globe, 
arid the other on a 
sort of miniature " Big 
Wheel." Both of these 
things have to be im- 
pelled along the track 
by the birds' own 

Fmm a Photo, fry Limit Ettxlt, Ewbbt*. 

j~TQtn 4 fholo. 6f Lotftf &Mt t £\ 

talons. They stop 
now and then and 
look at each other, 
much as we see them 
in the picture ; they 
might be saying, '* Was 
there ever such a 
senseless business as 
this ? " These two 
also ride a bicycle 
between them. One 
hops on to the saddle 
and gravely puts one 
powerful talon on the 
handle-bar, whilst the 
other alights on the 
wheel itself and forces 
it slowly round. 

The cage in which 
these eagles perform 
is not a particularly 
safe place.. When 
their respective duties 
are over, the huge 
birds fly hither and 
thither erratically, and if one. of them 
chanced to strike you, you would remember 
the blow for some time. And, moreover, 
they have been known, gratuitously, to 
attack their hard-working trainer, probably 
because he hadn't brought some pounds of 
raw meat into the cage with him. For- 
tunately the Professor is always able to beat 
the eagles off before they have dragged pieces 

out of him. 

What may be de- 
scribed as the most 
difficult balancing act 
ever accomplished is 
shown in the next 
illustration. The 
photo, was kindly lent 
by Mr. Hartley Mil- 
burn, of Sunderland. 
Mr. Milburn writes : 
" I should like to 
call attention to the 
p h o t ogra ph sh o wi n g 
the man doing the 
elbow balance. This 
is supposed to be the 
most wonderful feat 
of equilibrium ever 
performed by any 
hand-balancer ; and it 
has created a great 
sensation, not merely 
among the audiences 
yyva.j have witnessed 




it, but also among the artiste's own pro- 
fessional colleagues. You will perfectly 
understand how extremely difficult it must be 
to retain a balance in this way, when there is 
nothing to support the performer but his own 
elbow-bone. After this feat, ordinary hand- 
balancing becomes commonplace, because 
at least the performer is allowed one hand to 
rest upon, so that, of course, he has the use 
of his fingers, and these by constant practice 
become enormously strong and supple." 
The name of this equilibrist is Mr, Albert 
Letta, and he has already appeared in most 
of the great cities of Europe. The photo, 
which we reproduce was taken in Copen- 

The limbs of these hand-balancers and 
jugglers become practically interchangeable, 
if I may use such a word in this con- 
nection. We have already seen how arms 
have been made to do duty for legs. There 
was one man who ran races on his hands and 
arms, with his legs dangling loosely in the 
air ; another eccentric performer danced a 
jig in the same way* But in the accompany- 
ing photo, we see the double reversal of 
functions— a man standing on his arms and 
pouring out a glass of champagne with 
his feet and legs. This is a marvellously 
clever show. First of all, the artiste 
(by name Adolf Salerno) stands upright 
pn the stage, with the bottle of wine an<J 

sy Google 

the glass at his feet. Suddenly gripping the 
bottle with both feet, he drops on to his 
hands, holding the bottle high in the air. 
Then he brings it down much as we see it, 
only not tilted at so great an angle. The 
glass is now on the stage, just beneath the 
man's face. His arms bend outwards, as he 
lowers himself to pick up the glass with his 
mouth. Then, holding it firmly between his 
teeth^ and calculating by instinct, Salerno 
moves his slippered feet down the bottle, and 
it begins slowly to tilt over until, at length, 
the wine gushes forth, foaming and hissing, 
into the glass. Then comes a wonder- 
ful thing. The performer's body swings 
backward, as though on a pivot, and, of 
course, with this movement the bottle is 
righted and the full glass tilted up. The 
wine is drunk in this w T ay, and then back 
comes the bottle with the perpendicular 
posture, and out comes another stream of 
champagne into the glass. 

Yet another eccentric cycling act is next 
depicted. This is a youthful member of the 
Villions troupe of trick cyclists. The con- 
struction of the machine (which resembles a 
gigantic egg) is as follows : The wheel is 
perfectly oval in shape, and is inclosed in an 
egg-shaped frame of wicker-work. Cranks 

r. lv,\V i^F TAKIKtl WINH. 




From if PAdiu. fty Urttokt, L&dM. 

and pedals remain outside ; and the 
effect produced as this extraordinary 
unieycle rolls hither and thither is both 
comical and curious, 

Our last photo, shows the amazing 
ride of Kilnatrick, the crack American 
trick cyclist. What makes his per- 
formances the more astonishing is 
that he has only one leg ! Notwith- 
sianding this, however, Kilpatrick 
rides down a terribly steep flight of 
wooden stairs, 6oft, high, and fixed at 
an appalling angle. It seems sheer 
lunacy to attempt to ride down this, 
but the cyclist has done it hundreds 
of times, with no more serious acci- 
dent than a nasty shaking. As you 
may imagine, the speed and momentum 
acquired are terrific, once the machine 
is let go. True, there is a flat run 
of a few yards at the bottom unci 
then a slight ascent, but this is 
not enough, and Mr. Kilpatrick has 
to depend for ^afety mainly upon the 

steady pressure exercised by his powerful 
solitary leg upon the very long crank of the 

The cyclist relates one never to-be-forgotten 
incident that took place in Cincinnati, It is 
short. He was being photographed, much 
as we see him in our reproduction. The 
photographer, of course, stood below, midway 
on the short stretch of flat track. Somehow, 
the person who was holding the machine 
stumbled as Mr, Kilpatrick was mounting, 
and the next moment cyclist and cycle were 
descending the stairs at frightful speed. The 
unfortunate photographer was busy changing 
his plates. The result you can imagine, 
Kilpatrick himself actually escaped without a 
scratch, but the machine was smashed into 
wire-work. As to the photographer — well, 
when he recovered after weeks in hospital, he 
declared that in future he'd rather put his 
head into the muzzle of a loaded cannon 
than stand, professionally, in front of a racing 


(Grateful acknowledgments are due to the following well-Unowti entertainment providers and agents for valuable assistance 

courteously rendered : Messrs, Oliver and Holmes, H. Burrows- Smith, Frank Albert, Carl Hai$enbet;k f O. H. Macdcrmuit, 

Hanky Milburn (ot Sunderland), Richard Elliott, Pe-ncival Hyatt, and Leoii Victor, of Collcy's Agency*] 


Portraits of Celebrities at Different Times of their Lives, 





~ - ■■■ ■ 's ■ &#&f Ji 

Fram a i*hfstf>, hu\ 

[J, Ruttoll & $em. 

Fruuv a I 

AGE ifi, 

[l m K>4»&rapk, 


Born 1837, 
WOliAN FESTING, D,D. f was 
educated at Bruton School, 
2^i| Somerset, King's College School, 
Wells Theological College, and 
Trinity College, Cambridge. He was ordained 
deacon in 1860, and priest in 1861, He 

was curate of Christ Church, Westminster, 
from i860 to 1873. From there he went to 
St Luke's, Berwick Street, as vicar, and was 
appointed vicar of Christ Church, Albany 
Street, in 1878. He was made Rural Dean 
of St. Paneras in 1877, Prebendary of St 
Paul's in the following year, and in 1890 
he was appointed to fill the vacant bishopric 
of St. Albans, 

ttvm a FMii bf 1 

«=. rt. [MUffFi 



1 59 


Emma Eames was born 
in Shanghai^ of Ameri- 
can parents. Her early 
musical studies were 
directed by her mother, 
herself a musician 
of great talent, 

Prom a Pht*to&ntph. 

until, in 1883, 
Mrs. Eames 
removed with 
her daughter to 
Boston, that she 
might have the 
advantage of 
the able tuition 
of Miss Hunger, 
with w horn 
Emma Eames 
made such rapid 

yrvm a PAoto. 6y] ace 5. tDmrni; Pari* pr0 jr resS that 

her teacher declared after two years that she could 
teach her pupil nothing more. In 1886 she went to 
Paris with her mother, and began further studies 
under Mme. Marchesi. In 1H89 Gounod's opera 
" Rom 60 et Juliette" was, for the first time, given 
at the Grand Opera, Paris, when Mine, Patti was 
engaged for a limited number of performances ; 
after which, Gounod himself urged the engagement 
of Miss Eames for the part. Her success 
was nothing short of extra ordinary, the more 
so for a singer taking a part that Patti had 
created and made famous. The opera was 
presented for forty times, and the prima donna 


an i many have repeatedly en- 
! joyed the privilege of hear- 
ing the gifted singer during 
this year's season at 
K Covent Garden. 


ml ace i3, 1 /■/... t .,j ,-,,_, it. 

started on a career that has made her the de- 
light of two continents. Every lover of music 
is familiar with her subsequent achievements^ 

ft™ a J' W.i fry fienqv* tt Ga p Pari* 

,?f»K51»rT D^Y + 

FryHJ a i'hvto h iteuilvnger. Pari* 




From a Sketch hv) 


ai;r i 3. [j; B. MtDunald, ILS.A. 


Born 1835* 
was born at Aros T near Campbel- 
town, Argyllshire, in the midst of 
wild and romantic scenery, where 
he early evinced that talent for 
painting which has since made him so famous 
in Scotland* He went to Edinburgh in 
1S52, and as a result of much hard work 


T : 

From* Photo, &u] age *8. [J. fi + funny, 3Bt*b*rffh. 

done in the determination to succeed In his 
profession, Mr, McTaggart was, at the early 
age of twenty-four, elected an Associate of 
the Royal Scottish Academy. Full member- 
ship was awarded him eleven years later 
His works comprise a variety of interesting 
subjects, and are noted for their power. 
"Enoch Arden," "The Young Courassieurs," 
"Through Wind and Rain," and "Away to 
the West " may be quoted as fair specimens 

1 c 

of his skill Personally, he is modesty itself 
when speaking of his achievements, whilst 
he is noted for his hospitality and kindness. 

f *rum a PJtote, lv] 

AGE 4> 

PEqfltfi £dmbnr$K 

As an artist, he is generally regarded as a very 
excellent example of the Scottish school 







AGE 7. 

! / "A-'i.'.i.vjuft. 

Born 1870. 
ICHARDSON was born at 
Morden, but his name is naturally 
associated with Mitcham, where 
he attracted the attention of those 
ever on , 1 m—iuimiiiihii— mi«iw« 

/'Vum a Photo, by] 

ace 19. 

[JKarri, &ri*twi. 

scoring 69 in as 
and his partner 

the alert to develop 
Surrey's rising talent. 
Richardson was intro- 
duced to the Surrey 
Eleven v. Essex at the 
Oval, in 1892^ and 
took six wickets in 
each innings for 45 
and 55 runs respec- 
tively. It was in 1893 
that some comment 
was caused as to his 
delivery, so astonish- 
ing was the speed of 
his "yorker. " His 
record against Notts 
at Whitsuntide, at 
Trent Bridge, was 
indeed sensational — 
seven for 60 and seven 
for 85, His brilliant 
hitting helped materi- 
ally to win the match 
against Gloucester- 

L . 

by t^OOQlC 

shire, at Kennington 3 by 

niany minutes, when he 

added 105 for the last wicket, after the first 
HHHHBHUHHmu n ^ ne had gone down 

for 75. In 1894 he 
enly fell four short 
of his 200 wickets, 
and against Essex, at 
the Oval, took all ten 
wickets for 45 runs, 
hitting the stumps 
eight times. Naturally 
enough, he was one of 
the first asked to visit 
Australia with Mr. 
Stoddart's powerful 
team in the winter of 
1894-5, and came out 
in his true form at the 
head of affairs by 
securing sixty - eight 
victims for 23^4 runs 
npieee. In 1895 he 
finished up in marvel- 
lous form, taking more 
wickets (250) than any 
other English bowler 
in first class cricket. 

1 1 1 I u I I I ■_' 


y,*- . s~- 

Ml T-; . . . 

■:■■• . ■ 

Author of M iStew £rtrwn*s Bunyip 5J tf«rf l * /« M* Ora/ Deep?' 



} Frank, I've quite made up 
my mind ! No more of 
these pettifogging little 
affairs ! We've over ,£5,000 
to our credit now* Let us 
turn it into ^ioo } ooo. And 
the ridiculous simplicity of the thing ! Why, 
as they say over yonder, it's as easy as falling 
off a log + The only wonder is that it's never 
been tackled before ! " 

And the speaker, a tall, dark, handsome 
man, looked inquiringly at his companion and 
brother. Frank Maitland, also tall, but not 
so dark as Charles, who was almost swarthy, 
for a minute or two puffed slowly at his cigar 
without answering. 

u Yes/' said he, at last, " it seems feasible 
enough, tiut it'll want a lot of thinking out 
And, by the way, it has been done before, 
only not in the manner that I think you have 
in mind. Also, the sum was small. And 
the fellow? were nabbed. However, old 
man, count me in, although I know little 
of thu scheme, except that youVe had it 
simmering in that restless brain of yours for 
the last few years." 

The room in which the two Maitlands sat 
was one forming part of a flat in a large 

by V^C 

building in Kensington, known as Holland 
Chambers, It was well, even luxuriously, 
furnished, and around the walls hung an 
array of curios, ranging from a Zulu kaross 
to an Australian boomerang ; whilst on the 
polished floor were strewn many skins of big 
game — mostly African felidae. (lun and 
rifle cases of all descriptions were packed in 
one corner; over the fireplace was a hand- 
somely framed picture in oils, painted by 
Frank, and representing an incident in one 
of the Boer-Zulu wars, during which he and 
his brother had been " commandeered * by 
the former, Other sketches brightened the 
walls t all of more than average merit A 
violin and a piano formed portion of the furni- 
ture. It was an ideal bachelor's " den/' 
Adjoining it, but connected by a glass-roofed 
conservatory, were the four or five other 
rooms that made the Maitland menage^ and 
which at times were untenanted for a year 
or two. 

Frank and Charles were the sons of a once 
rather well-known figure in London Clubland 
— old General Maitland ("Inkerman Mait- 
land," *' Maitland Fasha"), whose adventurous 
and stormy career as a military free lance, 
after the gambling scandal that caused his 
resignation from the Imperial Army, often 
provided a sensational paragraph for the 
journalists of his day. 

Original from 




At last, decrepit and worn out by excesses, 
seamed with wounds and utterly penniless, 
the old soldier of fortune died in Monte 
Video, where he had been fighting for the 
Dictator Rivas, leaving his two boys at 
Haileybury quite destitute and altogether 
friendless. At that time Frank was sixteen, 
and Charles a couple of years older. Almost 
directly after the news of their father's death 
the pair disappeared, and were unseen and 
unheard-of for years. Then all at once 
someone discovered that they were living in 
Holland Chambers and were making a living 
as hunters of big game, a statement that 
received verification from there being, now 
and again*, *on -view in Roland Ward's 
windows a giant pair of antlers or a stuffed 
specimen of some great leopard or similar 
beast of prey, bearing a legend to the effect 
that it had been killed in some of the world's 
wilder parts by one or other of the brothers. 
, For the rest, although society nodded to 
them, they had few friends. Reserved, grave, 
and self-contained men, they seemed to 
prefer a quiet life of almost complete isola- 
tion when in town. 

Besides the usual service of the flat 
servants, the Maitlands had a private man 
of their own, a stony-faced, elderly henchman 
who answered to the name of Snell, and who 
accompanied the pair in their travels. 

"Well, Charles," his brother continued, 
after a long and thoughtful pause, during 
which the former closely scanned a chart of 
the main steamship routes, " this will be the 
biggest thing we ever tackled. What put it 
into your head at this special moment ? " 

" This and this," replied Charles, handing 
his brother two newspaper cuttings. The 
first ran : — 

By the incoming Australian P. & O. steamer, 
Empress, there arrived a consignment of specie of the 
value of ,£80,000. The Colonies would appear to be 
now getting rid of the heavy amounts shipped to 
them during and immediately after the late lamentable 
banking crisis. Thus, presently, we may expect the 
return of much heavier sums, whose effect will be 
to cheapen money, already too cheap. 

This was from the " money column " of 
the Times. The other, from the same news- 
paper, read : — 

For sale, or hire, the steam clipper yacht Basilisk, 
300 tons, 500 horse-power, which has just returned 
from a two years' cruise round the world. She is in 
first-class order, and has been re-surveyed and over- 
hauled. She is all teak built and copper fastened ; 
her engines are on the triple expansion principle, 
and she is fitted throughout with electric light and 
all the latest scientific improvements. For further 
particulars, apply to Messrs. Hatchard and Jones, 
Fenchurch Avenue, City. 
{ " I see the connection," said Frank, smiling 

Digitized byLx» 

as he finished. "But wouldn't something 
smaller and less elaborate suit ? Why, she's 
big enough for a man-o'-war. I remember 
her well. Saw her in Singapore, and again 
at the Cape. Three - masted ; schooner- 
rigged; painted all white." 

His brother shook his head. " A man-o'- 
war's exactly what I want, Franky," said he. 
11 Your mail steamers won't pull up for much 
less. And although I wouldn't hurt any- 
body, I want something able, if necessary, to 
say, 'Stop ! ' to the biggest liner afloat." 
, " Piracy rank and unmistakable ! " laughed 

" Call it what you please," replied Charles, 
imperturbably. * " If it comes off, we need 
have no fears for the future so far as money 
is concerned. And just look at the chance,'" 
he continued. " Here we are with actually a 
crew ready to our hands ! All our old men 
of the Albacore are waiting about, idle. 
Valverde wants us to take another trip with 
arms and ammunition to Cuba. But I'm 
* sick of that. So, I know, are you. Certainly, 
we made money this last time, but it's too 
precarious a business ; to say nothing of 
Spanish rifle bullets. My arm is stiff yet 
Look here, Frank, I'll write to Hatchard and 
Jones and make an offer of ^200 per month 
for the Basilisk as she stands, whilst you take 
a turn round the homes and tell any Albacores 
you may see not to ship till they hear from 
us. I told them, when we paid off, to let 
me know before they signed fresh articles. 
And you can give them a pound or so if you 
find they want it. Almost to a man, I'll bet 
they'll jump at this new game. Why, we can 
promise them ^200 each." 

" All right, old chap," replied Frank Mait- 
land, cheerily. " It's your picnic this time. 
Count me in at any rating you like. But 
oughtn't we to have a friend at the other 

" I've thought of that," replied his brother. 
" As you said before, the thing's been sim- 
mering ; and, long ago, I made out a cable 
code to meet the case. Do you remember 
Maggie Hamilton ? " 

" What, the pretty little woman at the 
Varieties, in Sydney, who helped to get Bell 
and Brown, the bank crooks, away in the 
Wanderer so pluckily ? Yes, of course, I 
remember her," replied Frank. "And how 
she made up those two scamps, till .the very 
police asked them for information about 
themselves ! Well ? " 

" Well, she's our agent," replied Charles. 
" Sharp as a needle, thoroughly unscrupulous, 
but fond of me so far as she can be fond of 


i6 4 


anybody but her wicked little self. Nowhere 
could a better be found* Already we have 
been in communication with each other ; and 
when the time comes she knows exactly what 
to do. I am going to 
write to her now, and 
send her a couple of 
hundred pounds for 
* exes. 1 :> 

M It'll be a deuced 
expensive business, 
this filibustering," 
remarked Frank. 

"It'll take nearly 
every penny of our 
savings, old chap/' 
replied the other, 
t( You don't mind?" 

M Not a scrap," an- 
swered his brother. 
"In for a penny in 
for a pound," 

" A hundred thou- 
sand of them ! " re- 
plied the other, 
emphatically, as he 
settled to his writing, 
whilst his brother, 
going to his room, 
threw off his fashion- 
ably-cut tweeds, and 
presently appearing 
in blue pilot cloth — 
a superior sort of 
seafarer — signalled 
to Snell to call a cab. 
As the latter watched 

his master drive off, a smile wrinkled his grim 
visage, and he muttered, in satisfied tones, 
"A job's brewin' ! An' a good thing too! 
'Untin's not too bad for a change when there 
ain't nothin* else. Sealing the pay meat game 
o' the lot But, for choice, give me trips 
like that last 'un to Cuby." 

hints of scaling in closed waters, at which sport, 
as at so many others of a more or less law- 
less flavour, the Maitlands were no novices. 
" Well, we've got the Basilisk'' said 
Charles, as the 
brothers met next 
morning at break- 
fast " And that's 
the main thing ; al- 
though there's some 
ticklish business to 
fix up yet. Good 
girl ! " he suddenly 
exclaimed, opening 
a long, yellow en- 
velope, u She's evi- 
dently on the qui 
vwe. Let ! s see what 
she says," 

After working 
away with his key 
cipher for awhile, he 
read aloud : " I will 
advise you at once 
directly a boat starts 
with a full cargo of 
sugar. At present 
rates are low. No 
shipments above 
^£2 Oj ooo , Pro bably 
freights will rise 
soon. Why not come 
on to Colombo and 
wait for a high mar- 
ket? Shall I travel 




Hatchard and Jones accepted Charles 
Maitlands offer, asked for three months' 
charter-money in advance, and eventually 
took two, thinking they might wait a long 
time and not do as well Also, Frank found 
nearly all the old crowd of the Albacore 
ready and willing for another enterprise, even 
to run contraband of war to Cuban insurgents 
again, if necessary ; although, on that trip, 
bullets had been cheaper than cigars. Of 
course, Frank told them nothing ; only let drop 

Digitized by V^iOOQ 1C 

with her myself? " 
" Of course ! " 
commented Charles. " That's exactly what 
I mean to do. Colombo will be our point 
de tm€n Resourceful little creature, isn't it ? 
Yes, she may as well travel by the boat, 
1 with a full cargo of sugar, 7 i\*. t a treasure- 
room containing a good heap of specie- 
boxes. I'll bet that when we meet on the 
Long Stretch, Maggie will have all particu- 
lars ready for us, and so save a lot of 
hunting about and waste of time. But if 
my latest plan answers, Frank, they'll actually 
beg us to relieve them of their responsibility." 
Rapidly, then, Charles unfolded his 
scheme ; and as he listened, Frank's smile 
grew broader, until he threw back his head 
and laughed long and silently, his whole 
body shaking with suppressed merriment, as 
he exclaimed: "No, Charley, you're a clever 
beggar. But it won't wash ! It really won't. 
Still, I don't know. It all depends on the 
fellow who's skipper. But it's a grand and 
gracious inspiration, nevertheless." And here 




the pair fell to laughing in concert with no 
more sound between them than would have 
scared a mouse. 

" There's no use in waiting, Frank/' said 
the other, presently. "And there's such a 
heap to be done ! However, thank Heaven, 
we've got the cash — a fact that makes matters 
comparatively easy ! I think you may as 
well get the men on board as quietly as 
possible. No articles to be signed. We 
don't want their names in any shipping office. 
We can manage without that. And they feel 
safer when they know what they're in for. 
Let the yacht tow down to that Kttle wharf 
of Brown's, just this side of Greenwich, 
where the Albacore used to lie. There's a 
gridiron there, too. You may as well put 
her on it and have a look at her bottom. In 
one tide and out the next I daresay 
Hatchard's are genuine. All the same, 
it's as well to * mak' siccar,' as Scotty 
says. Then get your bunkers filled — best 
Welsh. By that time I'll have the stores 
down. Also, I'll gel the men's clothes and 
our own uniforms under way. Sneli can see 
to that part of the performance. As an old 
Johnny War, he'll know to a T what's wanted. 
Meanwhile I'll cable to Hamilton. We'll be 
at Colombo, let's see — ten — ten — eighteen. 
She's a twelve-knot boat, they affirm. Take 
off two for imagination. Say, roughly, four 
thousand miles. Oh, we'll put it at three 
weeks, which will give us a good margin in 
case of contingencies." 

The elder Maitland spoke in a tone of 
sharp decision that showed how thoroughly 
his heart was in this latest scheme of his, and 
how completely his mind was made up to 
see it through. And Frank, who knew his 
brother's moods so intimately, was quite 
content, in this case, to unquestioningly 
follow the other's lead, certain that if success 
was to be won by vigilance, forethought, 
pluck, and cunning, then was it already 
assured. Sometimes it was his turn. This, 
however, was " Charlie's picnic." When it 
was Frank's, the other loyally backed him up 
with all the resources at his command. 

" It's a big thing, old man," was his only 
comment, as he rang for Snell. 

"The biggest thing of its kind on record," 
replied Charles, solemnly, whilst a gleam of 
exultation lit up his dark face, " if it comes off. " 

" Et aprhl" asked Frank, as he heard 
Snell whistling for cabs. 

"Let afterwards look out for itself,'' 
replied his brother, sharply. " No man ever 
did anything really big who had it all cut 
and dried." 

Digitized by LjOOgle 

During the next week the pair spent money 
like water, with the consequence that, at its 
end, the Basilisk was ready for sea. And this 
meant much more than met the eye on board 
of her. A score of the Albacore' s A.B.'s had 
volunteered, together with all her deck officers 
and engineers, men upon whom the Mait- 
lands knew they could depend in almost any 
emergency. Indeed, they were pretty sure 
of the whole crowd. And as Charles had 
said, it was a huge pull for success, this 
having their old crew to choose from — men 
with whom they had worked for weeks with 
a Spanish halter round their necks pottering 
about from Matanzas to Manzanilla, gun- 
running for Cuban insurgents. As to this trip, 
no one except the brothers had the remotest 
inkling of its object And his subordinates 
knew Captain Maitland better than to ask 
questions. Snell, even, was in as complete 
ignorance as the others. Generally he knew a 
little. But he evinced no curiosity. His duty 
was to exercise a general supervision over affairs 
below in both saloon and forecastle. And 
if he wondered at some of the commissions 
he had been intrusted with of late, he said 
nothing. There was, he felt instinctively, 
important and illegal business toward. 
Therefore, his hard old face and cold grey 
eyes showed just a slight anticipatory soften- 
ing, and that was all. 

" You've got a fine boat, sir," remarked 
the Channel pilot to Charles Maitland, as he 
left them at Plymouth, "and, what's more, 
you know how to handle her. You're the 
first gent I ever see as did, though, bar Lord 
Brassey. And the Sunbeam hasn't the heels 
o' this one. A regular little man-o'-war, 
that's what yours is." And the old fellow 
cast his eye aloft in unqualified approval at 
the tall, tapering spars, with the topsails 
stowed in show- white covers on the cross- 
trees, and brought it down to the wide sweep 
of spotless deck, arched by the handsome 
bridge, gleaming with brass work, and dotted 
with groups of sturdy, uniformed seamen. 

" Private yacht ! " he muttered to himself, 
as he presently descended the side into his 
boat and was pulled to his cutter. " Private 
granny ! Opium ; or seals ; or war stores ; 
or somethin' contraband. Why, there ain't an 
amatoor sailor-man aboard her ! They're 
the real, genuine article fore an' aft that 
hooker ! Well, it's none o' my business. 
But ain't she a picture ? " And he walked 
along the cutter's deck and gazed long at the 
Basilisk as, the wind freshening, she all at 
once set her three big fore-and-aft wings, 
mastheaded hex topsails, and with smoke 


1 6t» 



pouring from her buff-painted funnel, tore 
across Channel towards the French coast. 

" She's just the least bit oversparred, sir, 1 ' 
remarked the first mate, Mr, Jopling, to 
Charles Maitland, as the pair stood watching 
her from the bridge. "Three feet, now, off 
those topmasts, and she'd be far easier in a 
sea-way. And, anyhow, I don't like the 
rig. She ought to be square forward for 

" I'm quite of your opinion, Mr. Jopling," 
replied the other, "What's the canvas 
giving us extra now ?" 

"Just two knots," answered the other, 
looking at the log dial, "We're making a 
little over twelve. Square-rigged forward 
would mean another knot. There's too 
much fore-and-aft stuff on her altogether." 

"Weil, we're in no particular hurry, sir,'* 
replied Maitland, " I only wanted to know 
how she'd stand up to such a show of canvas. 
You can take it off her in the first dog-watch, 
by which time Ushant Light should be in 

Frank, who was in charge of the engines, 
was greatly pleased with the way they did their 
work ; and altogether the start seemed as 
auspicious a one as the adventurers could 
have wished for — a fine, fast ship, good 
weather, and a first-rate crowd of men 

"Jopling^ on pins and needles, Frank," 
said his brother, that night* " But 1 won't 
say a word till I'm certain. How are the 
engineers? " 

"Curious, naturally/' replied his brother. 

Digitized by ^OOgk' 

"Sheldon says seals, up the Japan Sea, or 
thereabouts. Indeed, that's the general 
notion on board, I think. Of course they 
don't ask me, and if they did it would be all 
the same." 

" Leave it at that," answered the other, 
" Encourage the idea, if anything. The 
pear's not ripe yet When it is, will be 
plenty of time for explanations. At the 
beginning of the Long Stretch, for choice — 
just as we're off from Colombo to meet our 
treasure-ship, I wonder how they'll take it t 
Frank ? n 

" Like a cat does cream, I think," said 
Frank, "It's a tempting morsel. The after- 
guard will be expensive, though, won't it?" 

"It may run to a thousand all round for 
engine-room and deck. Say, roughly, ten 
thousand for the crowd. But, of course, we 
can't calculate till we know the size of the 
pile* Yes, Frank, that's our weak point — 
and the only one. They may cut up rough 
and insist on shares pro rata. And there s 
only the three of us, counting Snell. But 
we must chance it. I fancy myself they'll 
take what I'm willing to give them. Nor 
need anybody but ourselves and the Hamil- 
ton know the exact amount. However, as 
I said in I^ondon, ■ afterwards ' generally 
adjusts itself. Time to talk when the spoil 
is in my state-room, with Snell on guard." 

As the Basilisk entered the Bay of Naples, 
her first port of call, the brothers gazed 
hungrily at a great homeward-bound mail 
steamer just coming out. 

There was a cable waiting from Sydney* 




" Nothing worth troubling about yet Qrmm 
only took ^£25,000, Better luck, perhaps, 
by the time you reach Colombo," 

Throughout the trip the hands had been 
kept at work by Jopling painting, tarring, and 
polishing, until the schooner, from gilt-t rucks 
to mast- hounds^ from flying -jibboom- end 
to ta\ffrail, simply gleamed again. Moreover, 
now, to a practised eye, all the minutiae of rig 
and lead, to the very passing of a gasket or the 
reeving of a topping-lift, spoke of " navy fash," 

The crew, too, looked, in their new suits, 
exactly like men-of-war's men, the only thing 
lacking being the " H.M.S." on their caps. 

Captain Charles, after getting clear of 
the Canal, drove the Basilisk down the 
Red Sea as hard as he dared* He was 
becoming a little impatient, not so much 
to actually grasp 
his prey, but to 
set matters on a 
firm and under- 
stood footing 
between himself 
and the ship's 
company. Half- 
way across the 
Arabian Sea they 
caught south- 
west monsoon 
weather dead in 
their teeth, mak- 
ing the Basilisk 
feel the leverage 
of those long 
spars of hers so 
much that it was 
thought advis- 
able to house the 
topmasts. But on 
the whole the 
schooner made 
good work of it, 
keeping her 
decks as dry as 
those of the big 
liner which they 
presently met 
swooping along 
at sixteen knots 
an hour, running 
to time like an 
express train, and bulking out of the water 
like a church. 

"There goes her number," said Jopling, 
referring to the Signal Book. " Ortnu*} I was 
pretty well certain of her ! Hoist the answer- 
ing pennant, quarter-master, and IX B.J. K. 
underneath it By Jove, she is going! " 

Digitized by Go 1 


"And ,£25,000 along with her," muttered 
Frank to his brother. 

" Pooh 1 " remarked the latter, " a mere 
fleabite ! I wouldn't bother stopping her for 
it, Ours must be a pile, Frank. Enough to 
last us the rest of our lives. It's not a game 
to be played twice. A hundred thousand at 
the very least. Not a red cent under, I'd 
sooner hang about the coast for six months, 
if I must, rather than take anything less. 
That's the beauty of yachting— one can poke 
around in all sorts of holes and corners 
without exciting notice or comment/' 

But, as it turned out, they had not long to 
wait. The very next day after the one on 
which the Basilisk brought up in Colombo 
Harbour, Charles, who had been staying at 
the Galle Face Hotel, came on board, and, 

telling Joplin to 
heave up at once, 
took Frank into 
his state-room 
and handed him 
something writ- 
ten in pencil on 
the back of an 

£t It came at 
breakfast time 
via Madras," said 
he, as the other 

"Good little 
woman ! It will 
suit us down to 
the ground, And 
we^ve got no 
time to lose. An 
old boat, too, and 
slow. We'll just 
meet her half- 
way across the 
Long Stretch ! " 
Maitland's eyes 
were shining, and 
his dark face 
was flushed as 
he watched his 
brother read the 
"* translated cable- 


"RMS. Chiri- 
moya sails 1 7th with thirty boxes of sovereigns, 
value ^£120,0005 shipped by the Bank of Car- 
pentaria. Also three boxes of sovereigns, value 
,£15,000, shipped by the French Bank for 
India- Few passengers. I^ascar crew. Should 
be a very soft thing. Am coming home by her 
for a holiday, and will be pleased to meet you,'* 


1 68 


" Splendid ! " exclaimed Frank. " And 
she's coming herself! Who would have 
thought that she'd be so eager and prompt 
on the thing ? " 

" Her share will be considerable/' replied 
Charles, with a smile. "And she's a 
mercenary little creature. Don't you re- 
member how she fleeced Bell and Brown 
for the part she took in getting them away ? 
It was in the Wanderer's cabin, by-the-bye, 
that I first broached this scheme to her, and 
asked her if, when the day arrived, she would 
help us through with it. She simply jumped 
at the notion ; and if she'd happened to have 
had the cash, would, I verily believe, have 
advanced it at once. But there's the anchor - 
up, Frank. Send those triple expansions of 
yours now for all they're worth. I want to 
meet our fortune in about i5°S. 92 E. — as 
lonely a bit of water as there is on the 
world's surface." 



To his great relief, Captain Maitland found, 
when a day or two afterwards he told his 
officers of the scheme, that not a man objected. 
For a few minutes, certainly, Sheldon, the 
second engineer, hung in the wind. But it 
all seemed so sure and so devoid of all risk, 
that his hesitation did not last long. As for 
Jopling and the other two deck officers, 
sailors of fortune, young men who had never 
possessed in their lives a quarter of the sum 
promised them now by their commander, 
they presently grew actually enthusiastic over 
the matter. There was a mixture of dash 
and bravado about the project that, as put by 
Charles Maitland's enticing tongue, apart from 
all mere money reward, took their fancy. 
Nor did any man ask for details. They 
knew the Maitlands, and were amply content 
to do nothing but obey orders. 

And with the men for'ard it proved the 

" Well, lads," said Captain Charles, when 
they were all assembled aft, " I expect you've 
been wondering what our little game is this 

44 Seals !" said a voice. 

" Not seals," continued Maitland. " Some- 
thing much better than seals. Better, too, 
than running powder and shot through 
Spanish rifle fire. We're after sovereigns ! 
Hard, yellow, coined shiners — thousands 
of 'em. Fact is, there's a treasure-ship 
coming across the sea from Australia 
loaded with 'em. And I'm going to bail her 


up. There's absolutely no risk. Remember, 
you're on no articles. But there's ^300 in 
hard cash for each man. My plans are all 
laid. You have nothing to do with these. 
My officers here are quite satisfied with what 
I have told them. But I want to force no 
man into a game like this against his will. 
And if there's any one of you would rather 
cry off, why, then, so he can, and I'll think 
none the worse of him. Don't imagine I'm 
going to start pirating, because I'm not. Just 
the one ship'll be enough. Then every man 
for himself with his share of the booty, 
landed on the Australian coast, most likely, 
and the Basilisk sunk in twenty fathoms. 
The Bush is wide. Most of you have been 
in it, and will have ample time to scatter 
before the thing gets known. Now, any 
man that jibs at the contract walk over to 
starboard i " 

Not a man moved. 

"Well," said Charles, "there's no hurry. 
Go for'ard and talk it over. In half an hour 
I'll ask you again. Three hundred pounds 
per man, remember, in hard coin ! That'll 

" They're all right," remarked Frank Mait- 
land, "and I dare say that extra hundred 

"Aye," said Jopling, "they won't take the 
half-hour. I could see it in their faces. And 
when you think of what such a sum means to 
a sailor, where's the wonder ? They're almost 
all steady fellows, too. You couldn't have 
got a better crowd for your purpose if you'd 
picked East London over." 

Meanwhile, in the dandy forecastle of the 
Basilisk — where the men slept in roomy, 
curtained berths, and had their meals spread 
on a table for them ; the electric light 
installed, and were treated like Christians 
generally, instead of pigs — there was some 
argument going on. 

" It'll mean life if any of us is nabbed," 
said one. 

"Seven years at the outside," corrected 
another. " But, anyhow, they won't bother 
about us small fry. It's the afterguard with 
the main lump o' the stuff they'll be chasin'. 
Them's the coves as'll get it socked on to 
'em — if they catch 'em," 

" Well," said a third, " it's the most how- 
dacious game I ever heerd on! An' that 
simple, too, when you comes to think it over 
— if the mail-boat (for, o' course, that's what it 
is) '11, only stop for us ! If she won't, I don't 
exactly see how we're to make her." 

" Hor ! hor ! hor ! " laughed another. 
" Ain't you bin wi' the skipper long enough 
Original from 




to know that when he sez he'll do a thin* 
he'll do it in spite o 5 the very deuce ? I reckon 
that three J underd quid's good's in my kick 
this minit" 

"Well, lads, eggs or young 'uns?" ex- 
claimed one, impatiently. "The Old Man'll 
think we're goin' back on him if we don't 
liven up. An' here's one as is satisfied ! 
Three 'underd quid ain't to be sneezed at 
It's it(ore money than I ever seen in once. I 
can't rightly imagine the look o } such a lump. 
Besides, boys, the fun o 3 the whole thing 
counts. Hands up all them as is o 1 my 
way o' thin kin'," 

A grove of brawny paws arose. There 
was not a seceder among the crew of the 

" Very well, bo'sun," said Charles Maitland, 
as the former came aft wiLh the men's decision 
of unanimous support "('Jet those cases 
out of the hold, then, and let's give the 
Basilisk a few teeth, if only to make a show, 
for I don't expect to have to use them." 

The contents of the great cases proved to 


be, in addition to a couple of 4m, quick- 
firing guns, half-a-dozen Nordenfeldts and 
the same number of 12-pounders, 

The big guns were mounted on turn-tables 
ahead and astern ; the smaller ones here and 

there on each broadside, in which ports with 
swinging shutters already existed, having 
been put in by some former owner apparently 
to supplement the scupper- holes. 

Presently, too, a store of stowed hammocks 
were triced along her rails ; and by the time 
all was finished the Basilisk looked the exact 
picture of one of those obsolete, handsome, 
armed boats kept in Colonial waters by the 
British Government, and used mainly for 
surveying purposes. n 

As the men worked^ some inkling of their 

captain's Intentions seem to dawn upon them, 

" We're a-goin 1 to take charge for the 

Gov'ment," chuckled one. "All fair, square, 

and above-board/' 

" Aye/' remarked another, " cunnin' ain't 
no name for our Old Man ! D'ye see, 
mateSj the mail steamer'll heave-to for 
Johnny War — J Er Majesty 's Ship Basilisk - 
when she mightn't for any thin 1 else. Cunnin 1 ! 
Oh, lor ! w And when Snell served out new 
caps with the " H.M.S." upon them, much 
chaff was exchanged and many jokes were 

cracked about the 
latest and unau- 
thorized addition 
to the British Navy. 
The A&ac&re h£d 
carried almost pre- 
cisely the same 
armament as now 
ornamented the 
Basilisk, for Val- 
verde and Co.'s 
instructions w T ere 
to fight if cornered, 
for which arrange- 
ment the firm paid 
accordingly. Thus 
there was no neces- 
sity for gun drill, 
the men knowing 
how to use the 4. 7 's 
and others. And 
both Charles and 
his brother, as the 
Basilisk foamed 
across the Indian 
Ocean on the 
" Long Stretch M 
from Colombo to 
Cape Leuwin, felt 
satisfied they had 
done all in their power to insure the success 
of their audacious plan, 

Meanwhile, the Royal Mail steamer 
Chirimoya approached from the opposite 

* re *ESfo M&i#.r companv " 



oldest boats, and it took all the chief 
engineer could get out of his engines to make 
her run up to contract time. Nevertheless, 
she was a fine, roomy craft, preferred by 
many to the more modern and faster 
cramped conglomeration of little cells, tier 
upon tier of which the up-to-date liner seems 
mainly composed o£ 

But the season was over, and there were 
not more than a score of passengers in 
each saloon. Amongst these Miss Maggie 
Hamilton, late of the Varieties Music Hall, 
Sydney, shone like the " star " the bills called 
her when appearing nightly in her special 
character songs, "The Little Larrikiness," 
uy Er Golden 'Air was 'Anging Down 'Er 
Back," "Oh, See His Dirty Pocket-hand- 
kercher," and similar ditties of which her 
rendering had long established her as a prime 
favourite with the "pushes," who whistled 
and shrieked themselves hoarse from the 
gallery of the popular " Hall." 

And if a few of the other saloon passengers 
gave themselves airs, and kept the variety 
actress at a distance, the ChirimoytCs officers 
simply worshipped her as the life and central 
attraction of the ship. For them she danced 
her inimitable fire-skirt dance, said to be 
unequalled even by La Loie Fuller, For 
them she sang all her best and 
most fetching songs. And she 
danced and flirted so impartially 
with both engine-room, deck, and 
the Presence that lives on a liner's 
lower bridge, that even the latter 
— in this case, gruff old Captain 
lllack — was captivated and ren- 
dered almost amiable by her 
witcheries, In appearance she 
was a small, lithe, well-shaped, 
quick-silvery personage whose age 
no man might tell to within a 
dozen of years* Undeniably pretty, 
with a good complexion and a 
fine wealth of bronze -coloured 
hair, both her very own ; deep 
brown eyes and perfect teeth : 
brisk and "jolly." It was hard, 
indeed, to find anything denoting 
the conspirator in such an ensemble^ 
unless the close observer might 
consider those sparkling eyes 
rather furtive at times in their 
regard, or the firmly rounded chin 
too massive to be in accord with 
the air>\ insouciant manners of 
its owner. 

As is generally the case on 
the older vessels of a line* most 

gilized by\_:.OOgle 

of the Chirimoyds senior officers had a pet 

The captain himself ought to have had the 
Catamaran in place of Phelps, "a confounded 
sailing-ship man come from no one knows 
where, and promoted right over people's 
heads who had seen more years in the 
company's service than he (Phelps) had hairs 
on his upper lip." 

The chief engineer complained bitterly of 
the way his requisition for stores was 
systematically ignored, whilst the new "swell" 
ship's engine-rooms were just palaces teeming 
with every expensive luxury that could be 
thought of This trip, for instance, he was 
short of oil, and yet they'd expect the 
average 137 ! Well, if he wasn't up to 
time because of heated bearings he'd let 
them know fair an' square whose fault it 
was ! Three times now, too, he'd spoken 
about a new starboard eccentric strap. All 
to no purpose. And so on, and so on* 

Then ihe chief mate, although long a 
passed master, had been snubbed by the 
" Board," and his application for promotion 
passed over in favour of a younger man* 
And with all these, and others, Maggie 
Hamilton sympathized and condoled in such 
fashion as completely won their hearts, and 

( IT MADE HKfciJUf^^lfpg^E SAID. 




made her free of every corner in the ship, 
from the captain's state cabin to the specie- 
room, to which latter spot, under the guidance . 
of Mr. Simmonds, the chief officer, she had 
paid more than one visit. 

It made her " teel thrills," she said, to only 
look on the pile of treasure-boxes and think 
of the potentialities of pleasure that lay 
stowed away in that little space. And she 
would enter the room and sit down and gaze 
thoughtfully at the precious cases, whilst the 
mate would explain again and again the im- 
possibility of anyone abstracting anything 
whilst only the captain and himself held the 
keys respectively of the little door she had 
come through and of the strong-room. 
Certainly (in reply to a question) he was 
most careful of his key. It hung alongside 
the portrait of his late wife that Miss Hamil- 
ton might have noticed at the head of his 
bed. And as to the captain's key, when he 
(the mate) wanted it, he took it off its nail 
over the old man's washstand. Yes, this 
was about the heaviest lot they had ever had 
in the Chirimoya. Somewhere close to 
;£ 1 40,000, he thought. What did those red 
letters mean — " L.B.C." — on the boxes? 
They stood for London Bank of Carpentaria. 
Yes, it was all very curious and interesting. 
Yes, he had drawn up his new application to 
the "Board." She would like to see it? 
That was kind indeed ! And so Mr. Sim- 
monds— an elderly, weak-eyed, grey-headed, 
amorous man, whose usefulness as a seaman 
was nearly expired — would shut and lock the 
ponderous strong-room door, and escort Miss 
Maggie into upper airs, there to read to her 
his last 4i application," in the framing of 
which by the dozen he spent a large portion 
of his watch below. 

As the days passed Miss Hamilton seemed 
to lose all interest in the treasure-room, which 
had, apparently, lost its power to thrill, and 
spent much of her time on the bridge com- 
plaining about the lack of shipping. As a 
matter of fact, they had not sighted anything 
since leaving Albany. One morning, how- 
ever, they overtook a big cruiser steaming 
leisurely at a ten-knot rate. 

"The Abides!" said the captain. "She 
brought relief crews for the Australian 
Squadron. Left a week before we did." 

"She's very slow," remarked Miss Hamilton; 
" see how quickly we're passing her. They 
ought to be ashamed of themselves." 

"Oh," replied the old skipper, "they're 
always dawdling along like that. They're 
not bound to time, you know. If he liked, 
that fellow could leave us as if we were at 

anchor. She's a first-class cruiser — a 21- 
knot boat." 

As they slipped past the great mass of the 
fighter like a greyhound past an elephant, 
Miss Hamilton watched her curiously through 
the glasses, and with an expression on her 
face compounded of interest and apprehen- 
sion, which gave way to one of palpable 
relief when the big hull of the warship fell 
rapidly astern. 

The day after this, coming on the bridge 
towards evening, she found Mr. Simmonds 
ogling through his glass a vessel that appeared 
nearly stationary, about three miles distant, 
and right in the mail-boat's track. 

" I can't make her out," said the chief 
mate, querulously. " Looks as if she were 
waiting for us to come up. She seems to 
have signals flying, too." 

Using her own glasses, Miss Hamilton's 
heart gave a jump, as into their field swam a 
graceful, three-masted schooner that some- 
thing told her was the vessel she had been 
expecting to see. And her hand trembled a 
little as the captain, ascending from his state- 
room, took the glass from Mr. Simmonds. 

It was a lovely evening, with hardly a 
ripple on the water. Save for a few cloud- 
islands lying low on the sea, and so wonder- 
fully like the real thing as to bid even the 
practised eye pause, there was not a 
visible speck in the sky. The sun was about 
an hour or so high, and almost directly 
behind the vessel at which the ChirimoycCs 
passengers were gazing. 

The stranger lay broadside on, showing a 
gleam of white hammocks over her bulwarks; 
her sails were furled, leaving the three tall 
and tapering masts, unbroken in their outlines, 
to rest like black bars against the burning, 
coppery orb behind them. From her funnel 
rose a thin whiff of grey smoke ; from her 
mizzen-topmast-head in the soft breeze 
fluttered a couple of flags, one — the upper- 
most — the white ensign and blood-red cross 
of the British Navy, the other the code 
pennant of the British Merchant Service. 

"Another man-o'-war," said the old 
skipper. " But only a little one this time, 
Miss Hamilton. Wants a talk, too. Looks 
as if he'd been waiting for us. Some swell, 
perhaps, seeking a passage home. Hoist the 
answering pennant, Mr. Simmonds ; and let 
her go to half speed." 

A quarter-master moved the telegraph 
handle along the dial, a chime of bells 
jangled below, and the mail-boat's pace 
sensibly decreased. She was now within less 
than a mile of the stranger, who, as soon as 




she saw the answering pennant, hoisted 
another signal and began to edge slowly down 
to the Chirimoya. 

" Three-letter signal," muttered old Black, 
" that's £ Urgent/ Now, Mr, Gale ,J (to the 
second mate), *' look sharp with that book, if 
you please*" 

"'J.N.P./ 17 spelled the officer. "'Heave-to/ 
it says, sir," 

" All right," replied the skipper, u Down 
with the pennant Now, what does he say? " 
as another string of flags went up to the 
stranger's masthead. 

11 Important news. Will send a boat," 
were the next readings. And, indeed, ere 
the words were well out of the second's 
mouth, a large galley filled with men could 
be seen in the water pulling for the Chirimoya. 

Miss Hamilton's heart beat more rapidly 
than usual as she turned to leave the bridge. 

" Aye, aye ! n called the old skipper after 
her, " better go and put on your war-paint to 
receive these Navy swells. Won't look at us 
poor liners after this, I s'pose ? 7f 

But it was not to adorn herself that " the 
Hamilton " went to her berth, where she only 
stayed long enough to unlock a desk, snatch 
an envelope from it, and hurry on deck again. 

By this time it was dusk, the lamps were 
lit, and, as she ascended to the bridge, she 
heard the Lascars' chant from the forecastle- 
head, "Mm deity hail" ("I'm on the 

watch!"), and she smiled queerly to herself 
as it fell on her ear. Someone was in her 
way. He made room for her, and begged 
her pardon. With a start she looked up at 
the sound of the voice into the grim, passion- 
less features of Snell — Snell in the uniform 
of a Navy warrant-officer. Another man in 
uniform was, she saw, talking to the captain. 
The electric light from the chart-room made 
things fairly distinct out there. 

With a swift motion she passed the 
envelope from her hand to Snell's, and 
moved forward towards the central group, 
where also, by this time, were other pas- 

The captain of the mail-boat was speaking 
in loud, angry tones to a tall, dark* handsome 
man in the uniform of a commander in the 
Royal Navy, 

"I don't care, sir," old Black was saying ; 
11 if, as you state, war has broken out between 
England and France^ and the Canal is 
blocked* still, why should 1 give up my gold 
to your keeping ? Basilisk or any other cursed 
isk? No, I won't! And that's fiat! It's 
just as safe with me as in yonder cockleshell 
of yours. And, in any case, if needs must, 
I prefer to wait till the A/odes conies up, 
and travel under her protection." 

"Well, sir/" replied the other, in calm, 
level tones, " I am only obeying my orders, 
which, as I have told you, were to relieve you 





of your specie, giving you a receipt in the 
Admiral's name for it. French cruisers are 
known to be on the look-out for your boats, 
and more especially for the slow tubs like 
the Chirimoya. But, of course, if you 
refuse " 

"Which I do," shouted the old captain, 
very angry now, "most decidedly." 

" Then," went on the other, " I regret to 
say that it becomes my unpleasant duty 
to enforce my instructions." And taking a 
whistle from his pocket he blew shrilly on it, 
at the same time whipping out a revolver and 
putting it to the captain's head. 

"Hum dekty hai/" droned the Iascar 
look-out again from far away forward. 

Meanwhile, Miss Hamilton had seen Snell 
coolly step into the chart-room, draw a card 
from the envelope she had given him, read 
it, and silently disappear. Then there seemed 
to take place a rush of men ip naval dress 
armed with shining cutlasses and revolvers, 
before which passengers and crew alike bolted 


'twixt cup and lip. 

As she fled with the rest, a brilliant, blinding 
sheet of white flame lit up the steamer, 
making things as bright as day. The strange 
vessel had turned her searchlight on, and by 
its aid Miss Hamilton could see the engineers 
being escorted from the engine-room and 
locked in their berths, whilst another guard 
was forcing the white quarter-masters into 
the house containing the steam steering gear. 
On the bridge were several figures ; but all 
was quiet there. Presently a cheer of exulta- 
tion from below attracted her; and, passing 
the two sentries at the saloon doors, she 
flitted along the alley-way to where Snell and 
half-a-dozen men were hard at work lifting 
the boxes of sovereigns up the hatch. 

Slipping into an empty berth, she presently 
saw the Maitlands coming through the 
saloon. Close to her they paused, watching 
the men handing the cases along. The 
brothers were laughing heartily in their 
peculiar, noiseless fashion. 

" Engines all right, Frank ? " asked the 

" Safe as houses," replied the other. " She 
won't stir for a month, unless her engineers 
are cleverer men than I give them credit for 
being. But where's ' the Hamilton ' ? " 

" Oh, keeping close, I expect," replied 
Charles. "There are eyes about, and it 
wouldn't pay her to be seen in communica- 

tion with us. Clever little beggar ! Look at 
the card she gave Snell. Saved us heaps of 
trouble and time." 

" Key of strong-room in captain's cabin 
over the washstand. Key of hatch in mate's 
berth (No. 3, port side) close to large framed 
photo.," read Frank to himself. " Hatch, or 
door, of compartment in which strong-room 
is situated is on starboard side of ship. Go 
down main saloon entrance, turn to left ; 
descend open hatchway ; turn to right till 
you come to a bulkhead. Door in bulkhead 
opens with mate's key. Inside is the strong- 
room. Please place ^5,000 to my account 
in B. of N.S.W. Avec mes compliments" 

"She shall have it, every penny!" muttered 
Charles. " I'd like to see her and congratu- 
late her on the acquisition of a new virtue, 
to wit, moderation. But it's too risky. She 
only looks on this as a mere interlude, you 
know. Strict business. Pity we couldn't 
pull Black's leg, wasn't it? Cantankerous 
old brute. Howeveij, it's as well as it is. 
How many, Snell ? " 

" Thirty-three altogether, sir," replied Snell. 
"There's fourteen in the boat already." 

" Right," said Charles. 

" There's a lot of other stuff in the strong- 
room, sir," continued Snell, tentatively. 
"Jewellery and cash, apparently belonging 
to the passengers." 

" Not a solitary farthing's worth," replied 
Charles, peremptorily, " or there'll be wigs 
on the green ! Do you hear me, Snell ? " 

Snell saluted ; but one could see that sub- 
mission went hard against the old filibuster's 

As the brothers re-entered the long and 
spacious saloon, some of the passengers, 
taking heart of grace, and re-assured by the 
sight of the uniform, approached, anxious 
and eager to hear particulars of the war out- 
break. But the Maitlands, saying that their 
own information was of the scantiest, and 
that their time was limited, speedily with- 
drew to the deck. Then, seeing that both 
men and treasure were in the boat and wait- 
ing, they descended the gangway, and were 
pulled off to the Basilisk. So far the coup 
could not have been more complete. And 
whilst the liner's crew were still busy setting 
their officers at liberty, the thump of the 
Basilisk's engines could be heard, and the 
churning of her screw as she headed away 
into the darkness with all her lights out, 
leaving the despoiled mail-boat rocking idly, 
helpless, and crippled on the soft, lazy swell. 

Suddenly those on board the Basilisk were 
startled by dv; load, prolonged blare Qi a 


* 74 


syren as the Chirimoya trumpeted like an 
enraged elephant, whilst, in another minute, 
rockeLs soared high in the air, and blue 
lights cast a weird radiance across the sea. 

"They've just dis- 
covered the loss of their 
valve-gear, flanges, and 
bolts, st remarked Frank, 
£1 1 brought them with 
me in place of throwing 
them over board j as I in- 
tended to. It would take 
ten fitters, fitting for a 
week, to replace them. I 
suppose they think that 
the Abides isn't very far 

"Curse her and her 
fireworks ! " replied the 
other, savagely, "If the 
cruiser comes up it will 
be a tight fit for us ! D'ye 
know, Frank, that, in 
obedience to the first 
law of Nature, we ought 
to go back and sink the 
noisy brute ? " 

But before his brother 
could answer, away from 
the eastward came to 
their ears the faint report 
of a big gun, then another, 
and another. 

" Damnation ! " ex- 
claimed the elder Mait- 
land. lt Get below, Frank, 
and send her for all she's 
carrying ! Mr Jupling, 
down with those top- 
masts, they only stop her way. Pity, almost, 
that those lower ones weren't out of her, too ! " 

And, presently, the Basilisk shook and 
quivered in every plank as her engines worked 
at their highest pressure, raising a three-foot 
wave that fell away in showers of liquid 
splendour on each bow, But it soon became 
apparent that the cruiser was coming like a 
racehorse towards the Chirimaya^ for already 
her big, white, mast-head light, looking as if 
set On a hill, so lofty was it, was plainly 
discernible from the Basilisk's deck. 

The latter, however, was fast increasing her 
distance, and her captain reckoned that in 
another half an hour he would be out of sight, 
steering due south as he was doing. 

And, sure enough, in a little over the time, 
even from the Basilisk's lower masthead, no 
lights were visible. Still, her captain was not 
at ease. He had not been seal-stealing and 



blockade-running for nothing. And when 
Jopling exclaimed, as he came down the 
mizzen rigging, " Nothing in sight all round, 
sir. I think we've slipped her, after all," 
he made no reply, only 
gazed anxiously astern. 

Frank, leaving the 
engines to Sheldon, had 
come on deck again, and 
he, too, was straining his 
eyes and ears in the same 

M Do you know who's 
got the A/ddes ? T> asked 
his brother, presently* 
" No," replied the other. 
11 Well, it's Menzies. 
You remember him ? He 
was at Haileybury with 

" Marion Menzies ! " ex- 
claimed Frank. lt t Molly ' 
Menzies, as we used to 
call him. I recollect him 
quite well. He was in 
our House. Left the 
term before we did to 
join the Britannia as a 

11 Turned out a deuced 
smart fellow," replied his 
brother. " Was at Alex- 
andria, and handled his 
ship like a workman. He 
chased me once before 
right down the China Sea^ 
when I was doing a bit 
of opium dodging. But I 
had the heels of him then* 
Curiously enough, on that occasion, he was 
in a gunboat tailed the Basilisk. He's the 
youngest Post in the Navy now. And Vm 
afraid that this time he's got the heels 
of me/' 

" Unless he's dowsed all his lights/' replied 
Frank, " he's out of sight by now. And — 
ah— h-h !" 

His exclamation was echoed by many 
throats as a great, broad spear of whiteness 
was seen to reach across the blackness of the 
night to the further horizon. At first it 
rested for a minute in a directly opposite 
quarter to that in which the Basilisk snored 
along under every ounce of steam the boilers 
could stand But presently the light began 
to move steadily round and round in con- 
tracting circles, until, all at once, it struck 
the Basilisk, enveloping her in a blinding 
radiance, and fcOf.owmg her with a merciless 




persistence, as in her endeavours to evade it 
she turned and doubled like a chased hare. 

" It's all up ! " exclaimed Charles, bitterly. 
" One can't get away from that, you know. 
He's been coming along with his lights out 
at a twenty-knot speed, and had the luck to 
run pretty straight too." 

" I wish he'd turn his cursed search off! " 
replied Frank. "It gives me a headache, 
and I can't see any distance." 

" Here he comes ! " exclaimed Jopling, 
moodily, pointing, as the light was turned 
aside for a moment, and they saw the out- 
line of the cruiser, and heard her twin screws 
beating as she overhauled them, going two to 
their one. 

" We could give him another couple of 
hours' run for his money," said Charles. " He 
wouldn't fire on us. But what's the use ? 
It's a wise man that knows when he's cornered. 
Half-speed, Mr. Jopling, please, and then 
slow her gently to 'stop.' All the same, it's 
cursed hard luck ! " 

"And hard labour, I expect," replied 
Jopling, with a laugh that had no mirth in it, 
as he moved the telegraph. 

" Not a bit of it," said Charles. " It only 
means seals after all, if you're willing. Still, 
it's a great come-down from stealing a 
fortune to stealing fur! Snell, take some 
men and get all the gold on the bridge here. 
Bring a couple of the main hatches along 
with you, too ! " 

And when, presently, the big battleship 
steadied abreast of the Basilisk, her people 
saw a man amidships on her bridge, smoking 
a cigar, whilst at each end stood two others 
apparently keeping guard over two little piles 
of boxes stacked on a piece of broad 
planking pushed out so as to overhang 
the water. 

At the Alcide's gangway looking down at 
the scene stood a group of officers plainly 
visible by the light of their own search, 
which was now turned inboard so as to 
embrace nearly the whole of each vessel in 
its rays. 

" What ship's that ? " hailed someone, with 
a rough note of suspicion in his voice. 

" My yacht — the Basilisk ! " returned 
Charles Maitland, removing his cigar from 
his mouth and touching his cap (he had 
doffed his naval uniform). 

" What's that you've got there ? " suddenly 
asked a short, red-faced, youngish-looking 
man, pointing to the boxes. 

"That's our ransom, Captain Menzies," 
replied the other — " one hundred and thirty- 
five thousand pounds, or thereabouts. Take 

it, and pass us your word as an officer and 
a gentleman not to follow us or to proceed 
further against anyone concerned, and it's 
yours. Refuse, and the minute I pull this 
siren wire, that you will notice I hold, away 
it goes to the bottom of the sea. Actually, 
I don't care much myself how the thing turns 
out. You and your cursed cruiser have 
spoilt the finest haul ever made since Drake 
captured the plate galleon. But I want 
immunity for those with me. And that's the 

It was rather a curious mid-ocean tableau. 
Not more than a few yards away towered the 
black walls of the battleship, broken here 
and there by ports and casemates, out of 
which peered gun muzzles. Splashes of 
light from arc lamps shone through many 
bull's-eyes in her sides, looking yellow by 
contrast with the steady white flare of the 
great search amidships. Her double funnels 
and pole masts sprang aloft and disappeared 
into the darkness as if suddenly cut off half- 
way up. Over her rail for'ard gaped hundreds 
of white, eager faces. Others, in their 
excitement, had climbed into the rigging, and 
hanging by one hand leant outward the 
better to hear. 

The depth of her masts below her, the 
Basilisk rolled uneasily in the cruiser's wash. 
Her decks, except for those five illuminated 
figures on her bridge, seemed deserted, 
although now and again heads would peer 
from the house amidships. Charles Maitland 
had resumed his cigar, and, with the siren 
wire in one hand ready to release the blast at 
a second's notice, leaned against the rail of 
the bridge, whilst Snell and Frank at one 
end, and Sheldon and Jopling at the other, 
stood on their respective hatches, alert and 
wary for the signal to tilt the treasure into the 
sea. There was a long pause, broken only 
by the lapping of the little waves between 
the ships. 

If ever a man was on the horns of a 
dilemma, Captain Menzies was that one. 
Also he had recognised Maitland, and knew 
enough of him to know that he would do as 
he said. Perhaps, too, certain old-time 
memories of long-gone days, when a strong 
boy — cock of his House at the big school- 
had more than once interfered to save him a 
thrashing, worked within him, helping him to 
a decision. However this may have been, 
he said, at last :- - 

" Very well, sir, I promise, provided you 
give me your word of honour to abandon all 
further attempts at— er — intercepting other 
mail-boats. Of course, you understand that 


1 7 6 



I must report this occurrence to my sensor 
officer at Cape Town ? " 

As he finished, something resembling a 
great sigh of relief went up from the cruiser's 
men. Had they dared, perhaps it would 
have been a cheer. 

*' Thank you, sir," was all that Charles 
Mai t land said, (t I can promise you that 
And whatever else he may have done, a 
Maitland never yet broke his word. I will 
come closer alongside, and if you'll send us 
your derrick chain down, well sling the boxes 
for you. There are thirty-three of them. 
And, into the bargain, we'll give you with 
her gold the Ckirimqytfs missing engine- 

In another twenty minutes the regained 
loot was transferred and the ships parted, 
the big one swooping off with the silent dis- 


da in of an eagle 
that has robbed a 
kite of its prey. 

Very little out- 
side certain circles 
was ever known of 
the daring attempt 
at looting the mail 
steamer, the com- 
pany, wisely, per- 
haps, judging that 
the less said about 
their terribly narrow 
escape the better 

Nor, as regards 
the Basilisk and 
her crew, was any- 
thing definite ever 
heard again. 1 n 
Vladivostock, many 
months afterwards, 
there certainly were 
rumours of a des- 
perate fight between 
a heavily-armed 
seal- poaching 
steamer and some 
Russian gunboats 
off the Island of 
Saghalien, in which 
the former was 
sunk, with nearly 
all her crew. Also 
was it whispered 
that the survivors 
had been sent to 
the mines at 
Tomsk* But curious 
matters happen at 
times in those foggy waters that wash Siberian 
shores, and the world at large none the wiser. 
As for the enterprising, but deeply disap- 
pointed, Miss Maggie Hamilton, after her 
trip " home " and return to Australia, she 
became a greater favourite than ever with 
her audiences, her new song, u Pa radi se 
Alley," " fetching them by the hair," as she 
herself puts it. And, at times, during 
a nice little supper at the " Australia " 
or " Paris House," she will tell the story 
of how the R,M,S, Chirimoya was once 
bailed up by pirates in mid-ocean, and 
drop mysterious hints that over the trans- 
action she was the loser to the extent of 
thousands of pounds. But when pressed to 
explain she only shakes her head sadly, and 
calls the waiter's attention to her empty 
gass. Original from 

From Behind the Speaker s Chair. 






IN his preface to White's Ai Inner 
Life of the House of Commons," 
published in the summer by 
Fisher Unwin, Mr. Justin 
McCarthy writes : ** Mr, Glad- 
stone's maiden speech fell so utterly unnoted 
that, until some fecent publications had 
settled the question, he was almost invariably 
set down as having made his first speech at 
a later date and on a more important 

More than sixty years have elapsed since 
the speech was made. Few are now living 
who heard it. Record is slight, and, as Mr. 
McCarthy points out, is a 
little mixed as to the pre- 
cise occasion* But Mr. 
G lads tone vividly remem- 
bers iL " Mr. McCarthy/ 5 
Mr, Gladstone observed on 
reading the passage quoted, 
"has fallen into a slight 
error about my maiden 
speech, It was noticed in 
debafe in a marked manner 
by Mr. Stank y, who was 
in charge of the Bill" 

The memorable speech 
was delivered on the 17th 
of May, 1833* The occa- 
sion was the introduction by Mr- Stanley, 
then Colonial Secretary, of a series of 
resolutions on which it was designed to 
found an Act abolishing slavery in the 
British Colonies. (Thirty - five years later 
Mr, Gladstone adopted the same form of 
Parliamentary procedure as a preliminary 
to his. Bill for. the Disestablishment of 
the Irish Church.) Parliament, the first 
after the Reform Act, met on the 29th of 
January, and the 1 7th of May was a little early 
for a new member to claim a hearing. Mr. 
Disraeli, however, was even more prompt. 
He was returned for Maidstone in the first 
Parliament of the Queen. On the 20th of 
November, 1837, it was opened by Her 
Majesty in person, and on the seventh day 
of the following month Mr. Disraeli delivered 
what remains as the most famous of his 
Parliamentary speeches, the one brought to 
abrupt conclusion with the passionate 

VOL .iv.-* 

prophecy, "The time will come when you 
shall hear me," 

Mr. Gladstone has the excuse that he was 
directly dragged into the controversy. Lord 
Ho wick, afterwards Lord Grey, in the course 
of his speech pointedly referred to the estate 
of Mr. Gladstone's father in Demerara, 
drawing from its domestic history alleged 
proof that slave labour in the West Indies 
meant early death for the slaves. The 
Mr. Stanley whose commendation the new 
member was justly proud of became in due 
time Earl of Derby, Prime Minister, patron 
and colleague of Mr, Disraeli. 

Mr. Gladstone's 



u Scott and 
tall, the 


sons and inci- 
dents connec- 
ted with his first 
Parliament is so precise as 
to extend to the door- 
keepers. He remembers 
their names, 
Williams, one 
other short, but both with 
snow - white or powdered 
hair and florid faces." 

In this connection, Mr, 
Gladstone mentions a fact 
which will be new to the 
present generation of Parliament men. In 
his time, and for many years after, the door- 
keepers were not paid by salary charged on 
the Civil Service Estimates, but were depen- 
dent upon fees voluntarily paid them by 
members. An old official, whose memory 
goes back over thirty years, tells me he 
heard that the sum given was " two 
guineas each." This must mean a contri- 
bution per member of two guineas, one 
for each doorkeeper. As there were then 
658 members this sum, duly paid up, would 
bring nearly ^700 per man for six months' 
attendance. ■ There was a current belief 
amongst the less highly paid servitors of the 
House that these coveted posts were obtained 
by purchase. It was said that ^1,000 
was paid to someone. As the someone 
must needs have been the Serjeant-at-Arms 
of the day, the story is not credible. It is 
quite possible for the student of advertise- 




merits in the Church newspapers to believe 
that places for the cure of souls under the 
aegis of the Church are bartered and sold. 
But the mind shrinks from contemplation of 
a Serjeant-at-Arms, even in the unreformed 
Parliament, selling the place of doorkeeper, 
and guiltily secreting the ;£i,ooo in the 
pocket of his tight breeches, 

I believe Mr. White, the doorkeeper whose 
Interesting book has recalled Mr. Gladstone's 
reminiscences of his early Parliamentary life, 
was the first doorkeeper whose salary was 
carried on the Votes. He was appointed by 
Lord Charles Russell, who was certainly far 
above the ,£1,000 suspicion, even had grounds 
for it not been removed 
by the altered circum- 
stances of payment. Lord 
Charles made Mr, White's 
acquaintance at a time 
when the future historian 
of the Inner Life of the 
House of Commons was 
taking an active part in 
local affairs of the ducal 
town. He liked him so 
much that, a vacancy in 
the chair at the door 
happening, he, fortunately 
for posterity, inducted the 
Bedford citizen, 

The salary of 

the principal 

d oorkeeper 

to-day is^oo 
a year, his colleague in 
the chair opposite draw- 
ing ^£250, It is one of 
the anomalies of the rela- 
tions of the two Houses 
that, whilst this modest 
salary suffices for the 
really hard -worked 
officials in the Commons, 
the doorkeepers in the Lords, whose task is 
by comparison a sinecure, are paid at 
precisely the same rate. Moreover, there 
are two principal doorkeepers in the Lords, 
who between them draw ^600 a year. 
This arrangement did not escape the atten- 
tion of a Committee recently reviewing 
the expenditure of the House of Lords' staff. 
Vested interests have been preserved, 
to the extent that one or two assistant 
doorkeepers on the way to promotion 
will, when they attain it, receive the same 
salary* Thereafter the wage of the principal 
doorkeeper in the House of Lords will be 
^sooa year. 



by Google 

There are probably many poor baronets, 
not to mention earls 1 younger sons, who 
would thankfully take the berth at the 
reduced scale of payment. Its duties are 
not exhausting, either to mind or body. 
Day after day in the early period of the 
Session, the Lord Chancellor, with full pomp 
and ceremony, takes the Chair at a quarter- 
past four, Prayers are read, and a pause for 
private conversation fills up the time till half- 
past four, the hour at which public business 
is appointed to commence. There usually 
being none, noble lords straightway go 
home, cheered by the consciousness of having 
deserved well of their country. This privi- 
lege the doorkeepers, of 
course, share, as they also 
enjoy much longer recess 
at Easter and Whitsun- 
tide than falls to the lot 
of their brethren at the 
door of the Commons. 
That) there is the long 
recess of something like 
five months, during which 
they sit, the centre of 
admiring family circles, 
recalling how the Earl 
greeted them with " Good- 
morning!" when it was 
really twenty-five minutes 
to five in the afternoon ; 
and what the Royal Duke 
said (this indicated only 
by initials) when one day 
he found another peer 
had in mistake taken his 
umbrella, there being a 
review at Aldershot on 
the following day, 

DOOR- ™™ 0r ? f C 
KEEPER. baCk > / nd * 

just touches 
the time when Mr, White was principal door- 
keeper, I have found the occupant of the 
chair a gentleman specially fitted for dis- 
charge of its onerous and important duties. 
The position is one requiring tact, 
patience, presence of mind, and unvary- 
ing good manner. These are cheap at 
^300 a year, and the selection of the 
Serjeant-at-Arms, at least for the quarter 
of a century that I have had opportunity 
of closely observing it, has been singularly 

By chance rather than by ordered pro- 
gress, the latest chief doorkeepers have 
reached the blue ribbon of the service vid 
Original from 







the Ladies' Gallery. Mr. Wilson, the present 
incumbent of the chair t is still spoken of 
kindly by ladies frequenting the gallery in 
recent Parliaments. The 
exceptional popularity he 
secured in the delicate 
position of custodian of 
ladies in a chamber where 
silence is peremptorily im- 
posed has been established 
with equal universality in 
the more stirring aif of the 

The House of 
Commons is 
quick to resent 
anything ap- 
proaching rude 
smartness, or attempt on 
the part of a Minister re- 
plying to a question to 
score off an unoffending 
member. Inability to recog- 
nise this honourable preju- 
dice had a good deal to 
do with the unpopularity 
and final downfall of Mr, 
Ayrton. On the other 
hand, there are few things 
delight the House more than a sly hit 
dexterously dealt by a popular Minister at 
a too obtrusive member. But the condi- 
tions here set forth must be rigorously 
observed. Moreover, there must be no 
malice in the quip. 

A well-known example of successful adven- 
ture in this direction was, I think, quoted in 
this patfe in an obituary notice of the late 
Sir George Campbell. In the Session of 
1889, when Mr. David Plunket, now Lord 
Rathmore, was First Commissioner of 
Works, new staircases were erected in 
Westminster Hall. They were decorated 
with carving in stone of impossible birds 
and beasts, which excited much acrid 
criticism. One evening, questions relative 
thereto having been answered by Mr Plunket, 
Sir George Campbell interposed, and in his 
most aggressive manner, uplifting to querulous 
pitch his memorable voice, insisted upon 
knowing "whether the First Commissioner 
of Works was responsible for these fearful 
creatures?" Mr Plunket coming back to 
the table replied : — 

11 No, sir, I am not responsible for the 
fearful creatures in Westminster Hall or in 
this House either." 

The smiling face, the dexterous stammer, 
the pleasing nod of recognition of Sir 

Digitized by G( 




George Campbell with which this remark 

was uttered, added much to the delight 

of the House. 

That is hard to 
beat ; but this 
^Session there 
have been two 
quiet flashes of this peculiar 
humour, that have had 
almost equal success. In 
the first, the interlocutors 
were Mr. Caldwell and the 
Lord Advocate* Students 
of the Parliamentary reports 
have no opportunity of 
realizing the individuality 
of Mr. Caldwell. He has 
a rich gift of what an emi- 
nent American t at present 
on a visit to this country, 
calls "pktitudinizing." The 
word will not be found in 
the New Oxford Dictionary. 
But it is most effective as 
indicating a constant, ever- 
fed supply of pointless 
words, wrapped up in 
cotton - woolly sentences, 
Amongst other attractions, 

he has a loud, level voice, a rapid intonation, 

and an almost inhuman staying power. He 

can go on talking 

for two hours just 

as conveniently 

as he can gabble 

through one, and 

probably will, in 

the double time, 

say less to the 

point than he 

might by acci- 
dent have com- 
pressed in a spin 

of sixty minutes. 
One day a suf- 
fering colleague 

on the Select 

Committee on 

the Scotch Public 

Health Bill cut a 

notch on a stick 

every time Mr. 

Caldwell rose to 

make a speech. 

When the Com- 
mittee adjourned 

the stick was 

found to contain 

forty -one notches. 

Original from 



i So 


Of course, the member for Mid- Lanarkshire 
is never reported, for the managers of news- 
papers have to consider their interests with 
the public That reflection does not lessen 
the anguish of those who, whether in Select 
Committee or the House, have to suffer Mr. 
Caldwell at length. 

It was late at night, in debate on a Super- 
annuation Billj that the Lord Advocate quietly 
scored off this contribution from Scotland to 
the business resources of the House. The 
proposal of the Bill was that superannuation 
should take place at the age of sixty. Mr. 
Caldwell, anxious for economy, moved an 
amendment extending the period for five 
years. No man, he argued, could be claimed 
to be laid on the shelf before he had reached 
the age of sixty-five. 

"Oh, yes," said the Lord Advocate, sternly 
regarding Mr. Caldwell; i ' som e pe rso n s 
become incapable long before they are sixtv- 

Members roaring with laughter turned up 
" Dod," and found that Mr. Caldwell is only 

The second instance this Session 

public is the more welcome as coming 
nuisances, from an unexpected quarter. A 
member put a question to the 
Home Secretary as to the powers of County 
Councils or other local authorities to deal 
with the nomad population of gipsies and 
tinkers living in vans, Sir Matthew White- 
Ridley replied that provision is made in 
the Housing of the Working 
Classes Act to enable local 
authorities to deal with nuis- 
ances caused by dwellers in 
tents and vans. Mr, Swift 
MacNeilFs ready wit here 
saw an opportunity of dealing 
a backhander at the Prim- 
rose League, whose agents 
are accustomed to go about 
country places in vans, 

" Do these powers," he 
slyly asked, u apply to persons 
in Primrose league vans?" 

(t They apply," said the 
Home Secretary, staring 
straight at his interlocutor, 
" only to persons who become 

The laughter which bub- 
bled round Mr, MacXeill's 
sally became a universal 
shout at the Home Secre- 
tary's subtle, though effective, 

One of the notable points about 

an old the Session just closed is the 

row advance made by Sir Michael 

Hicks-Beach in the esteem of the 

House. The^ Chancellor of the Exchequer 

ranks amongst the oldest members* having 

taken his seat for East Gloucestershire in 


hlK « ATT HEW 

by Google 

1864, four years before Sir William Harcourt, 
who justly counts himself one of the oldest 
inhabitants. Long ago, Sir Michael made 
his reputation as a sound debater, a safe 
administrator. In his fourth Session, Mr. 
Disraeli, who had a keen eye for capacity, 
picked him out for a minor Ministerial post 
Gradually advancing, he seemed to reach his 
highest point when, in 1885, 
he was made Chancellor of 
the Exchequer. But not at 
that time or before has he 
filled so large a place in the 
estimation of the House as 
he has won during the past 
two years. This may in part 
be due to better health. It 
may in some measure be 
traced to the greater ease 
which comes of fuller self- 
confidence following on suc- 
n>s, Sir Michael is, un- 
doubtedly, somewhat lighter 
of touch than was his earlier 
habitude. Still, in the main, 
life is to him a serious thing, 
to be regarded through grave 
eyes with face unlit by 

Perhaps, after all, he is 
himself unaltered, and owes 
his fuller success to his per- 
sonal environment. His solid 
Original from 




knowledge, his unfaltering consistency, supply 
sharp contrasts that make members involun- 
tarily turn to him with fuller appreciation. 

A country member confides to me 
voices in a gruesome e\perience that has 
thk night, befallen him in connection with 
the discharge of his legislative 
duties* He did not take a house m town 
this season, and after some experience of 
private lodgings, engaged rooms in one of 
the most lately built of the palatial hotels 
that lift their lofty heads above the streets 
of London. He was much pleased with 
everything on the first day of his stay. The 
dinner was excellent, the wine good, if a 
little dear, the attendance unexceptional, bed- 
room and sit ling-room thoroughly com- 
fortable, He went 
to bed glowing with 
pleasure at his good 
fortune, and soon fell 

H ow long he 
slumbered he cannot 
say, but was awaken- 
ed by an unfamiliar 
voice close at his 
ear. " Are you 
there ? " it shouted. 

He certainly was. 
but was not expect- 
ing anybody else. 
He turned on the 
electric light con- 
venient to his hand, 
and found he had 
the room all to him- 
self. Again the 
voice resounded, this time a little sharply: — 

" Are you there ? " 

Then he grasped the situation. There 
was a telephone in the room, the latest 
resource of civilization, at the disposal of 
tenants on the first and second floors. It 
must be urgent business that would call a 
man up at this time of night — illness at 
home, perhaps, and urgent recall 

Jumping out of bed, he approached the 
telephone, through which came again the 
sharp challenge. "Yes," he replied, breath- 
lessly ; u who is it ? " 

" It's me," said the voice. "Come away 
directly; your uncle's asking for you, and the 
doctor says he can scarcely last through the 

The M*P. rapidly reviewed his family 
relations, and knew that he had not an uncle 
anywhere nearer lhan Baltimore, in distant 

Digitized by Google 


" Who are you ? " he asked, through the 
telephone, " What's your name ? " 

" Tm Thompson, the butler, you know/ 1 
hoarsely whispered the voice* " Mistress 
says, come away directly, your uncle's asking 
for you, and the doctor says he can scarcely 
last through the night." 

''There's some mistake," the member 
signalled back, a little pettishly. It was 
early in the Session, and the nights were 

cold, " My name is B , You Ye on the 

wrong connection*" 

" Oh !" said the voice, in pained surprise, 
and then there was silence. 

The member returned to his couch and 
was soon asleep again. He seemed only to 
have dozed when the silence was broken 

by a well - known 
voice with the old 
cry, "Are you 
there ? " Angrily 
jumping out of bed, 
he roared through 
the telephone, 
"What's the matter 
now ? " 

"Your uncle's 
sinking fast," cried 
the too familiar 
voice, now tremulous 
with emotion, "Mis- 
tress says " 

"Go away!" 
bawled the member ; 
u you're on the wrong 

The story is too 
painful to pursue, 
but as a matter of sober fact, twice before 
morning broke were the member's slumbers 
disturbed by the ringing of the telephone bell 
and the peremptory inquiry, " Are you there ? " 
Whether this was preliminary to further news 
of his sick uncle he does not know, remaining 
under the sheets resolutely irresponsive. He 
made angry remonstrance with the manager 
on the following morning. The manager was 
exceedingly sorry, but the connections had 
got mixed and the member had been 
awakened to receive someone else's message. 
The other day a Royal Acade- 
famu-y mician, a famous portrait painter, 
likenesses, made a remark on which I have 
since hopelessly pondered. He 
asked if I had noticed the strong facial 
resemblance between the Marquis of Salis- 
bury and his nephew, the Leader of the 
House of Commons. At first sight there 
are, I suppose, no two personages more 
Original from 




distinct in appearance. Lord Salisbury, 

with his leonine head, his bowed shoulders, 

his great girth, his almost elephantine trot ; 

Mr Balfour, with 

his rather small 

head, his un- 

chubby cheeks, 

his maypole - like 

figure, his long, 

swinging stride. 

In the now little 
read if not quite 
forgotten "New 
Timon," which 
Bulwer Lytton 
gave to the world 
a little more than 
fifty years ago, 
there is a passage 
descriptive of 
O'Connell which 

applies with graphic accuracy to the Premier 
of to-day :— 

But who, scarce less by every gazer eyed, 
'Walks yonder, swinging with a slalwart stride ? 
Wiih that vast bulk of chesL and Limb assign'd 
So oft tr> n i en who subjugate I heir kind ; 
So sturdy Cromwell push'd, broad shuulder'd, on ; 
So burly Luther breasted Babylon ; 
So brawny CI eon haw I'd his Agora down ; 
And large -HmlAl Mahmoud clutch 'd a Prophet's crown! 

If that is, truly, like Lord Salisbury, the 

uncle cannot be said to recall the personality 

of the nephew. It was simply in respect of 

the face that the R.A. made 

his allegation of strong per- 
sonal resemblance, supporting 

it with a wealth of detail whose 

erudition I will not attempt to 


Whatever may be 
the case as be- 
tween uncle and 
nephew, there is no 

doubt that the personal re- 

semblance among off-shoots of 

the Cecil family is remarkable* 

It does not occur in the case of 

Lord Cranbornt\ who, whether 

in personal appearance, man- 
ner, or public speech, has no 

resemblance to his father or 

his cousins on the front bench 

of the House of Commons. 

But Lord Hugh Cecil is in some 

isolated respects exceedingly 




like his cousin Arthur. He has many of the 
inflections of his voice. His phrasing and 
his general style of speech-making, even to 

the extent of occa- 
sional hesitation 
for the proper 
word, and th]e 
certainty of find- 
ing it, recall Mr. 
Arthur Balfour's 
earliest House of 
Commons efforts 
whilst he was yet 
attached to the 
flank of the Fourth 
Party, To see 
Lord Hugh cross- 
ing the lobby of 
the House of 
Commons, or 
walking along the 
street, is to have instantly recalled his most 
famous cousin. A back view of his figure 
startlingly resembles the First Ix>rd of the 
Treasury, the illusion being completed by 
his long, swinging stride. 

It is probable that, if Lord Hugh retains 
his health and strength, and spends his days 
and nights in the House of Commons, he 
will at no distant day complete the parallel 
by drawing near to the Parliamentary position 
of his illustrious kinsman. A man of wide 
culture, he has also strong convictions, 
which, whether right or wrong, 
are rare things much appreci- 
ated in the House of Commons. 
He has in him, moreover, the 
making of a polished and pun- 
gent debater. 

In the case of Mr. Arthur 
Balfour and the Chief Secretary 
to the Lord Lieutenant) family 
resemblance is in one particu- 
lar development carried to an 
embarrassing perfection. Mr. 
Gerald Balfour's voice and in- 
flection of speech are so identi- 
cal with those of his brother 
that, entering the House when 
one or other is on his legs, 
one has to look towards the 
Treasury Bench to see who is 
" up n before deciding the ques- 
tion that presents itself when the 
voice first strikes on the ear. 

by GoOgic 

tony huch aeau 

Original from 

Some Unpublished Sketches by George Cruikshank. 

O say much in introduction of 
George Cruikshank is unneces- 
sary. There are many books, 
famous at this moment, that 
would have been forgotten fifty 
years ago were it not that they 

were illustrated with George Cruikshank's 

drawings. . And how much the poorer 

would our know- 
ledge of the man- 
ners and habits of 

our grandfathers be 

had he taken to the 

stage or the sea, as 

he was at first 

variously disposed ! 

To say nothing, of 

course, of our loss 

of sheer fun and 

delight. Considered 

academically, there 

are shortcomings 

in Cruikshank's 

work — for, indeed, 

he had no academic 

training. But his 

native invention, 

humour, spirit, and 

executive power 

were things beyond 

the reach of all the 

schoolmen. Of his 

known and pub- 
lished work a vast 

quantity must be 

familiar to almost 

everybody. His 

drawings for " Peter 

Schle mi h 1," 

"Grimm's Stories," 

"Three Courses 

and a Dessert," the 

" Comic Almanack," 

and for Dickens's 

novels and those of 

Mr. Harrison Ainsworth, with many others, 

will remain classic by the side of the best 

work of Rowlandson and even of Hogarth. 

But Cruikshank was a man of marvellous in- 

by K: 



dustry. His known designs are numbered 
in many thousands ; and there exist draw- 
ings and sketches of his which have never 
been made public. It is with a few of these 
that our present business lies. 

Cruikshank's pencil was never idle. He 
sketched and scribbled on odd pieces of 
paper, " envelopes, letters — anywhere. He 

developed acci- 
dental blots and 
smudges into fan- 
tastic designs, and 
he sent his friends 
notes pictorially ex- 
pressed in a few 
dashes of the pen 
or pencil. We are 
able to reproduce a 
small collection of 
these in this paper. 

First we have a 
pencil sketch — a 
fancy representation 
of the Queen, drawn 
about the time of 
her wedding. It is, 
perhaps, the only 
portrait of Her 
Majesty by a dis- 
tinguished artist 
which has till now 
escaped notice and 
reproduction during 
this present year of 
Jubilee stir. It 
cannot by any 
stretch of fancy be 
called a flattering 
portrait Not only 
was it no practice 
of Cruikshank's to 
make flattering por- 
traits of anybody, 
but plainly in this 
case the sketch is a 
mere hasty suggestion, pretending to no 
accuracy of feature. It presents, nevertheless, 
an example of the artist's free and ready pencil 
work, though the verbal joke that foots the 




sketch, "The White Sergeant, Halbertdiers," 
is a very saddening one. 

A strong and spirited pen-and-ink sketch 
depicts Mr. John 
Sheringham, a naval 
lieutenant, and a great 
friend of Cruikshank's. 
The excellent lieu- 
tenant is caught in 
sportive mood. He 
was one of the several 
friends who took ideas 
to Cruikshank for 
working out ; some- 
times only as idens, 
sometimes sketched 
out crudely on paper. 
Captain Marry at, the 
novelist, was one of 
these friends ; and 
Knight, the publisher, 
was another. 

In the very first 
English Volunteer 
movement George 
Cruikshank and his 

brother took part as boys. When an invasion 
of this country by Napoleon was anticipated, 

in the beginning of the century, willing 
defenders sprang up in thousands, beacon 
fires were laid, and even regiments of boy 

volunteers were en- 
rolled. To one of 
these boy regiments 
George Cruikshank 
(at that time about 
foil r t ee n years old) 
and his brother 
Robert belonged — 
Robert held a com- 
mand, while George 
served in the ranks. 
We print a photo- 
graph from a sketch 
in pen and ink^ made 
by George in after- 
life, representing 
Robert at the head 
of his company and 
George marching at 
this end of the front 

The next sketch is 

one of peculiar 

interest, and, as a likeness, was, one would 

think, notably good. The artist's own inscrip- 

<s^1^yCx#0 /<£* fhn*ft**K 

by Google 

Original from 


itself, the artist has added a brim, and, 
lo ! a steeple-crowned hat of the Common- 
wealth ; beneath this a head, a little hair, 
and a suggestion of shoulder, and there 
is a. little drawing- the head, say, of a 
cavalier's serving-man. 


tion at the top tells the tale : li Sketch of an 
impostor who went about selling my works 
and telling people that he was the artist," 
Whether the man looks like an artist or not 
may be a matter of opinion ; but that he was 
born an impostor his face proclaims at large. 
What possible face fuller of plausible craft ? 
One can scarcely believe that any liar, with 
his character so plainly adver- 
tised in his features, could 
take in anybody ; still, he 
seems to have done it, and 
there he stands, his wicked old 
head a picture of sham dignity 
and benevolence. It is a 
water-colour drawing, and, as 
a study of character, by no 
means Cruikshank's least 

Of Cruikshank's habit of 
amusing himself by working 
up accidental marks on paper 
we give three examples. First, 
on a sheet of rough sketches, 
a blot of colour has acci- 
dentally fallen. Instantly per- 
ceiving the use to which the 
shape of the blot best lends 

Vol. *iv.-S4. 

The next example is the result of an 
accident of an opposite kind. Instead of 
a falling blot of colour, the paper here 
has itself accidentally dropped on some 
wet colour, with a smear as the result 
A touch or two of the brush already in 
the artist's hand, and there lies a spirited 
and well-poised suggestion of a man on 
horseback. It is little more than a 
suggestion, of course, but there it is, and 
whether the artist had in his mind a 
fragment from the Parthenon frieze, or 
David's picture of Napoleon on the Alps, 
does not matter; possibly he was thinking 
of neither, but perceived that the smudge 
carried in it some of the essentials of the 
figure of a man on horseback, and did just 





enough to it to make the suggestion plain to 
a less percipient observer. 

The third of these little oddities consists 
of an old envelope, addressed to Crmkshank 
at his well -known house in Hampstead Road, 
One or two pencil calculations of extreme 
simplicity adorn the top of the paper, and 
below them is a slight half-length sketch of 
a man, with his arm resting on a shelf. Then 
the post-mark seems to have caught the 
draughtsman's eye ; it had been one-sidedly 
impressed, and an irregular completion of 
the circle, with a mark or two to help out 

some of the date-figures, was enough to 
bring out a head— perhaps done with a 
notion of caricaturing Thackeray, 

Three more of the examples are specimens 
of Cruikshank's playful pictorial correspon- 
dence. A friend asks him to dinner on 
September 20th ; but, being already engaged 
to dine somewhere else that evening, he is 
obliged to decline, and he does it character- 
istically. He takes a scrap of paper which 
has already seen service for trial sketches 
of figures, ship-blocks, a boot, and so forth, 
and on the space still available he sketches 

* < 




t . 

- 40*- 

■ * it 

t n 




V. V 


/- • • 





/ * ■ 

/ * 


, J- 


* _ 




%A^ IT *& J. u**a £i5i 

shank's letters to intimate friends, was 
conveyed by a sketch of the artist in 
a very gouty and dejected condition, 
surrounded by gruel and physic in 
bottles, with the simple legend, * £ very> 
very poorly," followed by the signa- 
ture. An index hand points at the 
sufferer, as though thrust through the 
ceiling, to give the expressive drawing 
the emphasis which in reality it does 
not lack by itself. 

The next drawing of our little 
collection is one of the most interest- 
ing. In 1847 theatrical performances 
took place in Liverpool and Man- 
chester for the benefit of Leigh Hunt, 
and Charles Dickens, Douglas Jerrold, 
Mark Lemon, G. H* Lewes, Cruik- 
shank, Egg, and other distinguished 
writers and artists played, Dickens 
also acting as manager, Some ^£400 
was realized after expenses were paid, 


^/L^ &^* 


with pen and ink a pitiful representation 
of himself, hopelessly tied to the leg of a 
dinner-table already set, the ligament 
{which may be a very large' table- 
napkin) being inscribed, " Engaged 
Sept 20th," to make all clear. 

The next is a hieroglyphic letter, 
addressed to a Mr, Parry, " Dear 
Parry/' one is constrained to read the 
superscription, though the " dear " (deer) 
is elementary and the <£ parry " is thrice 
repeated. " Your note," the letter goes 
on, " brings up the remembrance of Old 
Times, when you and I used to box. 
I used to foil you and you used to 
4 Parry. 1 " And a sketch of a "set-to " 
and a pair of boxing-gloves fi!ls the 
foot of the communication. 

Then we have a letter to his friend 
Auldjo, the antiquary —a sort of bul- 
letin, reporting absence of progress in 
the artist's illness of April, [840. It is 
dated on the fourth of that month, and 
all the news, as was usua! in Cruik- 




and in order to increase this sum Dickens 
designed to write a comic pamphlet " by 
Sarah Gamp/ 1 describing the journey to 
Manchester by rail supposed to be under- 
taken by the immortal Sairey in the same 
train as the company. It was to have been 
illustrated by the artists who took part in 
the affair, but some of them were so dilatory 
with their drawings that the project eventu- 
ally fell through. 

The few pages which Dickens wrote were 
never published till after his death, when 
John Forster included them in his biography 
of the great novelist. Whatever beginnings 
were made at illustration have never been 
published at all till this moment* when we are 
able to reproduce here Cruikshank's sketch, 
illustrating an incident in which he himself is 
supposed to address Mrs, Gamp in person at 
the railway station. 
The little book was 
to be dedicated to 
Mrs, Harris j and it 
was largely in the 
form of a letter, 
though a discursive 
one, addressed to 
that mysterious 
lady. Mrs* Gamp 
describes her meet- 
ing with Cruik- 
shank thus : — 

11 1 do assure 
you, Mrs. Harris, 
when I stood in 
the railway office 
that morning with 
my bundle on my 
arm, and one 
patten in my hand, 
you might have 
knocked me down 
with a feather, far 
less pork mongers 
which was a lump- 

his clothes); but I says, faintly, *If youVe 
a Christian man, show* me where to get a 
second-cladge ticket for Manjester, and have 
me put in a carriage, or I shall drop ! ' 
Which he kindly did, in a cheerful kind of 
away, skipping about in the strangest manner 
as ever I see, making all kinds of actions, 
and looking and winking at me from under 
the brim of his hat {which was a good deal 
turned up), to that extent, that I should have 
thought he meant something, but for being 
so flurried as not to have no thoughts at all 
until I was put in a carriage along with a 
individgle— the politest as ever I see— in 
a shepherd's plaid suit, with a long gold 
watch-guard hanging round his neck, and 
his hand a-trembling through nervousness 
worse than an aspian leaf," This is the 
theatrical wig- maker's representative, and 




ing against me 
continual and 
sewere all round. 

" I was drove about like a brute animal 
and almost worrited into fits, when a 
gentleman with a large shirt collar and a 
hook nose, and a eye like one of Mr, 
Sweedlepipe's hawks, and long locks of 
hair, and wiskurs that I wouldn't have no 
lady as I was engaged to meet suddenly a 
turning round a corner, for any sum of 
money you could offer me, says, laughing: 
* Halloa, Mrs- Gamp, what are you up tp? J 
I didn't know him from a man (except by 


after some conversation between the two, 
the wig-maker says : u ' PVaps if you're not 
of the party you don't know who it was that 
assisted you into this carriage?' 

" * No, sir/ I says, c I don't, indeed.' 

" < Why, ma'am,' he says, a-wisperin', 'that 
was George, ma'am.' 

" £ What George, sir ? I don't know no 
George,' says L 

tc [ The great George, ma'am/ says he. 
' The Crookshaifltf"" 





" ' If you'll believe me, Mrs. Harris, I 
turns my head and see the wery man 
a making picturs of 
me on his thumb-nail, 
at the winder ! ' " 

So much for Mrs. 
(lamp's account of the 
meeting here sketched 
by the other party to 
the transaction. Mrs. 
Gamp's remarks upon 
other distinguished 
persons in the party 
are amusing, and the 
whole of the fragment 
is to be read, as we 
have said, in Forsters 
" Life of Dickens," 

There are two other 
sketches in connection 
with the illustration of 
Dickens's work in our 
little collection, both 
relating to " Oliver 
Twist" One is a little 
paper of rough attempts 
at the figure of Oliver 
as he was to appear in 
the illustration repre- 
senting him 1( asking 
for more," As is plain 
to see, these are little 
more than dummy 
figures, lacking all the 
"go" and vigour of 
the finished drawing. 
Indeed, no more is 

attempted than a design 
of attitude. The disposi- 
tion of the hands was 
obviously the point most 
in the artist's mind, for 
he has made two separate 
sketches of the hands 
clasped, and two more 
each of a single hand. 
A comparison of these 
sketches with the finished 
drawing will illustrate the 
wide space which may sepa- 
rate an artist's first rough 
ideas from his finished per- 
forin a nee. 

The second of the 
"Oliver Twist" sketches is 
one that was never used 
with any degree of develop- 
ment It represents Bill 
Sikes in the condemned 
cell, and it was evidently made early in 
the progress of the book, when the author, 


; * „ Original from 

J 90 


JJlcj n* H+ &*J&**x**I} CUt* 

although he had decided that Sikes was to 
murder Nancy, had not resolved to kill 
the murderer by accident before any arrest 
could be effected- In the end it was 
Fagin whom Cruikshank had to draw 
in this situation. A particular interest of 
another kind also attaches to this drawing. 
In a way it affords still one more scrap of 
evidence (if more were needed) against the 
preposterous story, first published in America, 
that "Oliver Twist" was chiefly invented by 
Cruikshank, and that Dickens largely " wrote 
up " to a set of drawings already executed by 
the artist 

Forster, in his ** Life of Dickens/' effec- 
tually disposed of the story, by testimony 
never gainsaid ; but if the biographer had 
seen this sketch he would no doubt have 
adduced it also. For the person responsible 
for the rumour in America spoke in particular 
of the completed drawing of Fagin in the 
condemned cell as being in existence, and 
seen by Dickens, before the book was 
written. The present sketch is in pencil, 
strengthened here and there with touches of 
pen and ink. 

Three more sketches, and we reach the 
end of our little collection. They are of the 
casual detached sort, but of considerable 

merit One represents Death, in the character 
of President of the Alpine Club, wailing for 
his victims, the members. He holds a 
barbed spear by way of alpenstock, and he 
smokes a pipe as he sits attentively on a peak 
of rock. The drawing is in pen and ink, 
with a few touches of the brush suggesting 
the lower part of the cloak* The skull is 
especially well suggested by a few scratches 
of the pen, the skeleton features carrying 
their fitting expression, Cruiks hank's title, 
as he wrote it below, was : 4i The President 
of the Alpine Club waiting for the members. 
Come along, my lads. I'll show you the 
way " ; and it is plain that at first he began 
by writing "Chairman," and altered it to 
" President." 

Then we have a pencil sketch, very 
cleverly touched in, being a fanciful repre- 
sentation of the reception of church tithes. 
The tower of the church is so drawn as to 
suggest a vast, ogreish head, a bishop's, with 
mitre and cauliflower wig. Its windows 
make goggle eyes ; its door is a vast and 
receptive mouth. The rest of the building 
is represented as an open pavilion, with a 
hint of ecclesiastics sirtingat table within, A 




tithe-payer with a contribution of corn on his 
back walks into the open mouth. 

The last of our set is a very firmly touched 
and spirited sketch with the title, "Death on 

the Pale Horse, or 
Bomfs Return," with 
a note below, " The 
Pestilence." It has been 
suggested that this was 
drawn on the occasion 
of Napoleon's return 
from Elba, but this is 
scarcely likely. It would 
rather seem to have 
been prompted by a 
threatened epidemic of 
Infectious disease ; 
else, why the note, 
" The Pestilence w ? 
There would have been 
little reason, or none, 
in drawing Napoleon 
as a skeleton riding 
through the air ; but 
much in representing 
the coming pestilence 
as the conquering and 
destructive Napoleon of 
diseases ; also the not 
very inspiriting pun 
on Napoleon's English 
nickname of f< Ronev " 
emphasized by under-scoring, makes it plain 
that the dressing of the conventional figure 
of Death as Napoleon was mainly suggested 
by the nickname. 

Digitized by Google 

Original from 


From the French 

Jean du Rebrac. 



G* H. Woodhoxjse. 


E was only a boy, not yet 
sixteen, but they were going 
to shoot him, nevertheless. 

The band of insurgents 
to which he belonged had 
been routed by the Army of 
Versailles, and, taken red-handed with some 
ten of his comrades, he had been conducted 
to the Mairie of the nth Arrondhstment 

Struck by his youthful appearance, and 
also astonished at the boy's coolness in this 
hour of extreme peril, the commandant had 
ordered that the fatal verdict should, so far 
as he was concerned, be suspended for the 
moment, and that he should be kept a 
prisoner until his companions had met their 
fate at the neighbouring barricade* 

Apparently quite calm and resigned, his 
great eyes and his face — the pale face of a 
Parisian child — showed neither emotion nor 
anxiety. He seemed to watch all that was 
passing around him as though they held no 
concern for him. He heard the sinister 
report of the fusillade which hurled his 
companions into eternity without moving a 
muscle ; his calm, fixed gaze seemed to be 
looking into the great li Afterwards," which 

Digitized by (jt 

was soon to become the "Present " to him also 
Perhaps he was thinking of his happy, care- 
less childhood — he had hardly outgrown it j 
perhaps, of his relations and their sorrow 
when they heard ; of the chain of fatality 
which had made him fatherless and had 
tossed him into the seething turmoil of 
civil war, and now demanded his life at the 
hands of fellow-countrymen ; and, perhaps^ 
he wondered why such things were. 

At the time war was declared he was living 
happily with his father and mother, honest 
working folk who had apprenticed him to a 
printer ; politics never troubled that little 

It was not long, however, before the 
Prussians had slain the head of the family. 
The privations of the siege, the long and 
weary waiting at the butchers' and bakers* 
shops when the scanty dole of food was 
distributed in the rigour of that terrible winter, 
had stretched his mother on the bed of 
suffering, where she lay slowly dying. 

One day when he had gone with others to 
dig for potatoes in the frost-bound plain of 
St Denis a Prussian bullet broke his shoulder, 
and afterwards, driven partly by hunger, partly 




by fear of his companions' threats, he had 
enrolled himself in the Army of the Com- 
mune. Like many another, fear and fear 
only had led him into and kept him in the 
ranks ; he had no heart for a war of brothers, 
and now that his life was about to pay the 
penalty, he was glad that he could lay no 
man's death to his charge. He was innocent 
of that, at any rate. 

The things he had seen and suffered during 
the few last months had given him a dread 
of life. He hated to think of leaving his 
mother in this terrible world — his mother 
whom he loved so dearly, who had always 
been so inexpressibly good to him ; but he 
comforted himself with the thought that 
before long she would come, too — she could 

of liberty— how he would run to her and then 
come back and give himself up to the hands 
that hungered for his life. He would give 
his word , and he would keep it Why not? 
Save his mother— and she, too, was dying- 
he had no one to regret To see her again, 
to kiss her dear lips once more, console, 
encourage her, and leave her hopeful— then 
he could face death bravely." 

He was in the midst of these sad reflec- 
tions when the commandant, followed by 
several officers, approached him. 

" Now, my fine fellow, you and I have a 
score to settle ; you know what awaits you ? " 

** Yes, man commandant^ I am ready," 

M Really? So ready as all that? You 
are not afraid of death?" 


not have much more suffering to undergo, 
she was so weak when he last saw her, four 
days ago, 

"Kiss me again, dear — again," she had 
said, " for I feel thai I may never see you 


"Ah," he thought, sadly, "if they would 
only trust him- — would give him only one hour 

Vol. *iv r -25. 

igitized by LiOOS Ic 

" Less than of life- I have seen so much 
the last six months— such awful things — 
death seems better than such a life." 

" I wager you would not hesitate if I gave 

you your choice. If I said: c Put your best 

foot foremost and show me how soon you 

can be out of sight,* you would soon be off, 

FU warrant 1 ' . 

Original from . 




" Try me, mon commandant, try me ! Put 
me to the proof; it's worth a trial. One 
more or less for your men to shoot, what 
does it matter ? One hour of freedom only, 
not more ; you shall see whether I will 
keep my word, and whether I am afraid 
to die." 

" Oh ! da / you're no fool, but you must 
take me for one. Once free and far away, 
and then to come back to be shot just as you 
would keep an ordinary appointment ? You 
will hardly get me to swallow that, my 
boy ! " 

" Listen, sir, I beg of you. Perhaps you 
have a good mother; you love her, your 
mother, more than aught else in the whole 
world. If, like me, you were just going to 
die, your last thoughts would be of her. 
And you would bless the man who gave you 
the opportunity of seeing her once more, for 
the last time. Mon commandant, do for me 
what you would pray others to do for you. 
Give me one hour of liberty, and I will give 
you my word of honour to return and give 
myself up. Is life itself worth a promise 
broken ? " 

While he was speaking the commandant 
was pacing to and fro, tugging viciously at 
his moustache, and evidently struggling hard 
to appear unmoved. 

" * My word/ " he murmured. " This 
urchin talks of ' my word ' as though he 
were a Knight of the Round Table ! " 

He stopped abruptly in front of his prisoner 
and asked, in a severe tone " Your name ? " 

" Victor Oury." 


"Sixteen on the 15th of July next" 

" Where does your mother live ? " 

"At Belleville." 

" What made you leave her to follow the 

"The thirty sous chiefly; one must eat! 
Then the neighbours and my comrades 
threatened to shoot me if I did not march 
with them. They said I was tall enough to 
carry a musket My mother was afraid of 
them, and wept and prayed me to obey 

" You have no father, then ? " 

" He was killed." 

"And where?" 

" At Bourget, fighting for his country." 

The commandant turned towards his staff 
as though he would consult them at a glance. 
All seemed moved to interest and pity. 

" Well, then ! it is understood," the officer 
said, gravely, after a moment's reflection. 
" Yqu can go and see your mother. Yoij 

gilized by Google 

have given me your word of honour to be 
back again in an hour. Cest bien. I shall 
know then whether you are a man of 
character or simply a cowardly boy. I give 
you until evening. If you are not here by 
eight o'clock I shall say that you are a 
braggart, and care more for life than honour. 
A/Ions / Quick march ! " 

" I thank you, mon commandant. At 
eight I will be here." 

" You are sure ? " 

" Certain." 

" We shall see when the time comes." 

The boy would have thrown his arms 
about the officer in his wild joy and gratitude, 
but the latter repelled him gently. 

" No, not now," he said. " This evening, 
if you return, I will embrace you — in front 
of the firing party," he added, grimly. " Off 
with you ! " 

Victor ran like a hare. The officers smiled 
as they watched him disappear. Twenty 
minutes later he knocked at his mother's 
cloor, and the neighbour who was tending 
her opened to him. She started and 
exclaimed when she saw him, for, like every- 
one else, she believed him dead. He would 
have rushed to his mother's room, but the 
woman stopped him. 

"Go very quietly," she said, in a low 
voice; "she is asleep. She has been very 
ill since you went away, but she is a little 
better now. The doctor said yesterday that 
if she could sleep she would soon get stronger ; 
she must not be awakened. Poor thing ! she 
will be glad to see you, for she has asked lor 
you so often. When she w f as not calling you 
she was praying the Bon Dicu to preserve 
you and to restore peace in the land. He/as / 
one would say He had abandoned us, the 
Bon Dieu, and let men do just as they liked. 
It is awful ! " 

But Victor, impatient, thought he heard 
his name called in a faint voice. He moved 
on tip-toe towards his mother's bed. He had 
not been deceived — the sick woman's eyes 
were opened wide. 

" Victor ! my boy ! " she cried, in her thin, 
weak voice. Without a word he lay down 
beside her and her arms closed round him 

And now the boy who had faced death so 
impassively could do naught but sob. Now, 
in his mother's arms, he became a child once 
more, timid, despairing. 

The sick woman, who seemed to gain 
strength from his presence, sought in vain to 
console him. 

" Why do you distress yourself so, my 





child, my best - beloved ? " she asked, 
H You shall never leave me again. We will 
throw that hateful uniform away ; I never 
want to see it more. I will make haste ^nd 
get well ; I feel so much stronger since you 
came. Soon you will go to work again, and 
you will grow up and marry some good girl. 
The past will only look like a bad dream 
then, and we will forget it completely ; com 
pletety, dear/'' 

Poor soul, how should she know that her 
picture of a bright future only deepened her 
boy's anguish ? She was silent, telling 
herself that the best way to dry tears is 
to let them flow freely. She kissed him 
and let his weary head foil back on 
the pillow, and then she gave herself up 
to dreams of happier days in store for both 
of them. 

Victor's sobs grew less frequent and less 
violent, and soon nothing could be heard in 
the little room but the regular breathing of 
the mother and her child. Ashamed of his 
weakness, the boy forced himself into self- 
control, and when he raised his head from 
the pillow^ once more believing himself 

Digitized by GoOglV 

stronger than love of life, his mother, yielding 
to the reaction which her sudden joy had 
caused, was sleeping peacefully. 

The sight restored his energies. A kind 
Providence, he thought, had wished to spare 
him a scene which his strength and courage 
could not have borne, and he resolved to go 
at once. Lightly he kissed his mother's 
forehead, and gazed at her earnestly for a 
few moments. She seemed to smile, he 
thought ; then he went out hurriedly and 
returned to his post as quickly as he had 
come, not seeing a soul he met nor daring 
to look behind him. 

" What ! so soon ?* the commandant cried ? 
astonished. He had hoped, like the good- 
hearted man he was, that the boy would not 

" But I had promised ! '' 

11 Doubtless, but why be tn such a hurry ? 
You might have stayed with your mother 
some time longer, and still have kept your 

" Poor mother ! After a scene of tears 
which seemed to take all my courage- tears 
of joy for her, of despair for me — she fell 




asleep so calmly, so happily, that I dare not 
wait for her to wake. She fell asleep with 
her arms about me, thinking I should never 
leave her again ; how could I have told her 
the truth? Who knows whether I should 
have had the courage to leave her after 
doing so? And what would you have 
thought of me if I had not come back ? 

" So I kissed her, and slipped away like a 
thief white she was sleeping, and here I am, 

and I would revere you as a second 


" Allans / you are a plucky lad, and you 

have not deserved to suffer as you have done. 

You shall go. Embrace me first— bietif 

Now go, and go quickly. Join your mother, 

and love her always." 

As he spoke the last few words, the officer 

took the boy by the shoulders and pushed 

him away gently. 

" It really would have been a pity," 
he said, half-apologetically, to his staff, 
as he turned towards them, 

Victor did not run— he flew home* 
His mother was still sleeping. He 
would dearly have liked to cover her 
with kisses, hut he did not dare to 
wake her, although her sleep seemed 
troubled. He lay down again beside 



Pray God may be good to her as she has 
been to me. Man commandant \ I have one 
more thing to ask — to finish quickly." 

The officer looked at the boy with mingled 
pity and admiration. His own eyes were 
full of tears. 

" You are quite resigned, then ; death 
does not frighten you ? " he asked. 

Victor answered him with a gesture. 

" And if I pardoned you ? " 

"You would save my mother's life too, 

Suddenly she sat up, crying : (l Mercy ! 
Victor ! My child ! Oh ! Mercy !— Ah ! 
you are here, it is really you ? " she added, 

Her thin, weak hands wandered all over 
him ; she pressed him close to her and 
rained kisses on his face. Then she was 
shaken by convulsive sobs, which Victor 
could not calm* 

"Oh! my boy! my boy!" she moaned, 
I( I dreamt they were going to shoot you ! " 

by Google 

Original from 

The Floating Church. 

Bv L, S, Lewis, 

T is unique, being the only one 
of its kind in the world. The 
yachts used by the various 
missions to fishermen cannot 
exactly be called floating 
churches^ in the strictest sense 
of the term ; whereas the extraordinary 
structure dealt with herein is a regular con- 
secrated church, which visits its congregation, 
instead of waiting for the congregation to 
come to it A portrait of the pastor very 
properly appears on 
the first page of this 
article. He is the 
Rev. George Broke, 
vicar of Holme, 

We hear a good 
deal about the 
troubles of the clergy 
in crowded cities, 
where there is but 
one pastor to a popu- 
lation of several thou- 
sands ; but no one 
ever seems to have 
thought about the 
hardships endured 
by ministers in out- 
of-the-way parts of 
the country. Many 
of these heroic men 
have to work single- 
handed a parish 
whichj though con- 
taining only a few 
hundred people, is 
scattered over many 
square miles of lonely 

Mr. Broke's parish 
is situated in the Fens 

of Huntingdon, which, like the rest of those 
vast tracts of fertile land, were, until com- 
jxiratively recent times, marsh, bug, and 
shallow lakes. The chief difficulty connected 
with most of these Fen parishes is that the 
ordinary parish churchy parsonage, and village, 
proper, are not really in the Fen at all, but 
in the clay country bordering it, This latter 
is locally called the " mainland " or the 

Digitized by G< 


From a P koitt, by it W. How*, K Dtr tkttnL 

"highlands." As the Fen gradually becomes 
drained, houses are built farther and farther 
from the " village," until at last a single parish 
may be scattered for miles. 

The parish of Holme, in Hunts, is a typical 
instance of this. That part of it which con- 
tains the parish church and village, and which 
is situated on the clay, to the west of the 
Great Northern main line, is only about 400 
acres in extent ; whereas east of the railway 
the parish spreads thinly over 4,500 acres, 

Half a century ago 
much of this Fen 
land was the bed of 
the Whittlesea Mere. 
Holme, however, 
is blessed svith nine 
miles of navigable 
canal, and this cir- 
cumstance suggested 
to Mr- Broke the 
idea of the floating 
church. Mr. Broke 
had been a curate at 
Great Mario w, and 
possibly the recollec- 
tion of many house- 
boats had something 
to do with the notion. 
Here is a view of 
the floating church. 
The " building" 
proper is but 7ft 
high, and is erected 
on a flat- bottomed 
lighter, 40ft long. 
The interior measures 
30ft. in length* No 
greater height than 
7ft. could be allowed 
on account of the 
bridges beneath 
which the church has to pass. Even now 
(strange as it may sound) the sacred edifice 
has to be in very low water indeed before 
it can reach one particular station. 

The floating church — St- Withburga's, by 
name -is also the cheapest church on record. 
She (or it) cost only ^70. The church is 
towed by a horse to a different station on 

each Sunday of the month. And, by the 
Original from 




way, if much Gilbertian language strikes the 
eye in this little article, it must be attributed 
entirely to the topsy-turviness of a subject 
which deals at the same time with a church 
and with a boat. 

The church carries two flags. The St. 
George's Cross on top was presented by 

the vicar before the floating church was finally 
settled in all its details. He thought of a big 
caravan, but the appalling state of the Fen roads 
(or** droves," as they are called) in winter put 
this out of the question. Besides, there was 
the expense to consider. The Church Army 
vans cost £100 each, plus the cost of the 

tfrtnn a Photo, bpj 

the Archdeacon of Huntingdon, and beneath 
this the St. Andrew's Cross is flown, as a 
signal to laggards that service is about to 
commence. Thus, these flags serve instead 
of bells, and they can be seen for a great 
distance across the level Fen country. 

Ith* Wan. 0ffe Broke 

horses. The next idea was a dismantled 
railway carriage, costing, say, ^7, fixed on a 
second-hand barge, which might be picked 
up cheap for about ^30, Dismantled rail- 
way carriages, by the way, play an important 
part in the lives of the 1 Vn people. It costs 

Prom a Photo br] 

2. — Ct>MtN<i Tu SI i :■• i-. 

Uir Hev, iw*(*. liyukt, 

In the foregoing photo, the congregation 
are seen coming to service. The horse on the 
near side is the motive power. He is a 
sober, respectable animal, fully conscious of 
his high mission. 

Several other ideas suggested themselves to 

by Google 

a good deal to bring bricks and mortar into 
these lonely places, but the railway company 
will always let the people have an old carriage 
for little more than a ^5 note. As a fact, 
many Fen folk live in these railway carriages 
(as at Ramsey St Mary, near Holme), 
" Original from " 




and spend the greater part of their lives In 

It is a curious parish altogether, A big 
van has been run for years in connection 
with the school. This van -starts out at eight 
o'clock in the morning, and makes a round 
of six miles to collect children from the out- 
lying dwellings. The children when school 
is over are again taken in the van and 
deposited at their own doors. 

The vicar, Mr. Broke, tells us that the 
floating church supplied an urgent want 
There were several grown-up children found 
who had never been baptized at all ; indeed, 
the very first baptismal ceremony that was 
celebrated in the floating church was marked 
by a curious incident — the child cried out 
indignantly^ " Give me back to grannie ! ** 

The very interesting photo, next repro- 
duced shows the interior of the floating 
church. (1 The room itself," writes Mr. 

allowing room for three extra members of the 

There are, altogether, thirty -six chairs, with 
ample room for kneeling between the rows ; 
there are, besides, two small benches for the 
choir* The internal fittings are well shown 
in the reproduction. The east end is 
furnished in harmonizing shades of red 
The diminutive American organ is one of 
the very smallest made, and is admirably 
suited to the " building. }i The desk, fixed 
to the wall on the right, serves the double 
purpose of pulpit and lectern, and it can be 
folded back when not in use. For a baptism 
the font, with its stand, is brought down and 
placed on the lower step in front of the altar ; 
and for a celebration of the Holy Com- 
munion the stone basin is removed, leaving 
the oak stand to serve as credence- table. 

It js an amusing fact that, when the vicar*s 
wife and a lady friend were completing the 

Frvm a Photo, t»] 

[the Rtv. £f«sa Broke. 

Broke, " is built of deal with oak joists, 
and it is match boarded inside. The windows 
open upwards, and hook on to the roof. 
Entrance is obtained by a door in the bows, 
opening on to a short flight of steps. To 
avoid stooping in descending, part of the 
roof slides back some 3ft., just like the hatch 
of a ship's companion. On the left on 
entering is the vestry— merely a small recess 
curtained off. So precious is space, that 
when I emerge from the vestry to conduct 
the service, this curtain is thrown back, thus 

by Google 

internal decorations, the latter was seized 
with unmistakable symptoms of sea-sickness I 
Members of the congregation have also been 
smitten with tj)e same distressing malady 
during service ; and some of the choir girls 
have had to resign on the same account. 
You see, during Divine service, the church 
swings out to the full length of her moorings, 
and is then brought up sharply. She then 
commences to rock gently, and forthwith 
returns slowly inshore again, to repeat the 
same performance. 

Original from 




"The bill for the church," remarked the 
vicar, ** was an interesting document 'To 
one Floating Church, ^70.' Just that and 
nothing more. It was built by a boat- 
buiider at Stan^round, near Peterborough. 
He took two months to complete the church, 
and on receipt of her we only had three days 
in which to fit her up before the Archdeacon 
came to conduct the ceremony of dedication. 
We had about 120 people at the dedication 
service. Not all inside, of course. And I 
should tell you that many of my own con- 
gregation remain outside on fine Sundays, 
They sit on the bank near the open windows, 
with prayer-books in their hands, and follow 
the service very closely." 

The vicar's wife has a girls' class in the 
floating church one night in the week. The 
girls work in the fieldSj and would not care 
about a four-mile walk to the parish church 
after the day's 
work is over, 

Mr, Broke is 
a great enthusiast 
and an earnest 
worker. He wel- 
comes strangers to 
his unique church, 
and he assures 
them that its sta- 
bility precludes 
the possibility of 
the church going 
to the bottom. 
" St. Withburga's 
is not insured," re- 
marks Mr. Broke, 
jocularly, fct but 

there is a sinking fund. The church," the 
vicar goes on to say, " is built of deal, 
with oak knees. The bows are higher and 
heavier than the stern. She is steered by a 
tiller f and moved by towing." One man, it 
seems, can lug St. Withburga's a short 
distance, this sweltering duty devolving 
occasionally upon the senior churchwarden. 

Our last photo, shows the church lying 
idly at her moorings on a week-day. The 
outside is painted green. The hull is 
tarred and the roof covered with tarred 
felt. The flagstaff lets down like the mast of 
a Norfolk wherry, In short, in inception 
and execution, the church is a monument of 
ingenuity, and is thoroughly appreciated. 
Untoward incidents are few. One Sunday 
morning, however, a stout labourer was 
in a hurry out of church, and he 
slipped off the plank bridge leading from 

the bows to the 
bank. Of course, 
he fell with a 
terrific splash into 
the water. When 
fished out, half- 
dead, a comrade 
and fellow - wor- 
shipper, wishing 
to offer a little 
consolation, whis- 
pered earnestly in 
his ear, u Never 
mind, mate, thank 
God, you've got 
the parson here to 
attend ye in yer 
dying moments ! n 

|.- AT lllvH JUluKlM-v 

From it F*\ftia. by ih* Rev trVr». Hrukt. 


Original from 

Captains of Atlantic Liners, 

Bv Alfred T. Story. 


NOTHER of the American 
Line commanders is Captain 
H, D. Doxrud, of the steam 
ship Belgeniand^ one of the old 
Red Star Line, sailing under 
the Belgian flag from Liverpool 
to Philadelphia. He has been for fourteen 
years in the employ of the two lines, his full 
career at sea amounting to thirty years. Fate 
seems to have purposely thrown in his path 
vessels needing the aid of brave and willing 
hands, knowing that he would do his best to 
give help and succour. His achievements in 
this respect have been so remarkable that 
Tit~BiH last year said that he held the 
"world's record for saving life." 

His first act of rescue from a watery grave 
took place when he was but a boy, and on 
his second voyage. His 
ship was lying at Cork, 
where they were taking 
in ballast. It was a 
fine mild night, and it 
being his duty to keep 
the deck till midnight, 
he was walking to and 
fro, " thinking of 
home." Suddenly he 
heard a heart-piercing 
cry, which seemed to 
come from a vessel 
lying close by. Jump- 
ing on to the quay, he 
ran to it, and there, 
between the quay and 
the ship, he saw a man 
in the water. He sprang 
on board the vessel, 
seized a rope and threw 
it over the side, and 
then went down it him- 
self. The man in the 
water got hold of his 
legs, and hung on to 
him. Thus he found 
himself in the painful 
position of being unable to regain the 
deck himself, let alone pulling the man 
out. Fortunately, however, he had strength 
enough to hold on to the rope until their 
united cries brought assistance from his ship. 
It turned out that the man in the water was 
the watchman of the neighbouring vessel, 

Vol. xiv. -26. 

captain H. D. uoxhitd, <n 
Frmtt a Pfcj(a hu W. (J. 

who, having gone ashore for some iL cratilf " 
comfort, was thereby rendered too unsteady 
to walk the narrow plank from the quay to 
the ship, and so came very near losing his 

Captain Doxrud's next achievement in this 
line occurred when he was captain of a 
barque belonging to Bergen, Norway* About 
400 miles from the Brazilian coast he fell in 
with an Italian vessel called the Vassal!^ 
laden with salted hides, bound from Buenos 
Ayres for London, which had sprung a leak 
and was fast filling with water. He took off 
the crew, consisting of eighteen men, and 
landed them at Rio, 600 miles from the 
scene of the wreck. The ship went down 
about two hours after the rescue. This 
happened in March, 1879. In the month of 
December of the same 
year Captain Doxrud 
rescued the fever- 
stricken crew of the 
schooner /<£*>, of Liver- 
pool, in mid -Atlantic 
(long. 20 west, kit. 49 
north). She was from 
Laras bound for Lon- 
don with a cargo of 
palm oil, and had been 
drifting for some time. 
All her crew, consisting 
of eight men, were 
down with yellow fever, 
quite helpless, and 
slowly pining away. 
There was a lot of 
water in her, and her 
cargo had shifted. 
After they were taken 
off the wreck the crew 
gradually recovered. " I 
landed them in Lon- 
don," said Captain 
Doxrud, "and the 


Matthew*. Philadelphia. British Government 

gave me a pair of 
binocular glasses in recognition of my 
services. I myself was from Rio, and had 
lost three men with yellow fever, and SO was 
short-handed, or I should have tried to save 
the vessel, which was afterwards picked up 
and brought in," . . 

The ship of which Captain Doxrud had 




command at this time was the Alert, which, 
in September, 1880, he lost in mid- Atlantic, 
on a voyage from St. Pierre, Martinique, to 
St. Nazaire, in the Bay of Biscay, with guano. 
The ship sprang a leak during a hurricane, 
and the water getting into the guano choked 
the pumps, so that it was impossible to keep 
her afloat. " We left her in the boats," said 
Captain Doxrud, "and after thirteen hours 
were picked up by an Austrian sailing vessel 
bound to Yarmouth, where we were landed." 
In March, 1881, while in command of a 
small steamer called the Plover, trading on 
the Norwegian coast, Doxrud took six men 
from a capsized fishing-boat and landed them 
at Mehaven, in the Lofoden Isles. In 1886, 
when second officer of the Belgenland, of 
which he now has the command, Captain 
Doxrud rescued the crew— eight in number — 
of an American coasting schooner named the 
Charles E. Paigle, about 300 miles south of 
Sable Island, and brought them to Antwerp. 
She was loaded with lumber, but in a severe 
gale the night before had sprung a leak as 
well as lost her masts, and was only kept 
afloat by her cargo. When the crew were 
taken off the wind was moderate, though 
there was a heavy sea. 

In answer to a question, Captain Doxrud 
said that in such cases as these boats were 
always manned by volunteers. " There is 
never any difficulty in getting a boat's crew 
for such services," he remarked. " For this 
rescue," Doxrud added, " the captain of the 
Be/gen/and was presented with a silver tea- 
service by the American Government." 

A still more dangerous rescue in mid- 
ocean was effected in December, 1889, w f hen 
the crew of a vessel belonging to Salcombe, 
in Devon, were saved. She was going from 
Newfoundland to Glasgow, with a cargo of 
cod-liver oil in barrels, which, during the 
rescue, was poured overboard by bucketfuls 
to allay the fury of the waves. In spite of 
that, however, the sea was so heavy that their 
boat could not get near the ship, which had 
been dismasted in a gale of wind, and so 
each man was obliged to jump for his life 
with a line attached to him and be drawn on 
board. All the crew, nine in number, were 
thus got into the boat. But the danger was 
not yet passed ; for, in returning, the boat, 
which was damaged as they left the ship, was 
so badly smashed alongside that they had 
to be pulled up with ropes and the boat 
abandoned. For this act Doxrud received a 
gold medal for " gallantry and humanity " 
from the Board of Trade, and each of the 
four men who accompanied him got a silver 

medal and a present in money besides. He 
was at this time chief officer of the Pennland, 
running between Antwerp and New York. 

Three years later, while chief officer of 
the Noordland, he had a similar experience 
close to the Banks of Newfoundland. 
Towards ten o'clock at night, in the midst of 
a gale from the north-west, they saw a signal 
of distress. They put out a boat and went 
in search of the vessel asking for succour. 
It proved to be the King Oscar If., a 
Norwegian barque, which had been partly 
dismasted some hours before and was com- 
pletely at the mercy of the waves. There 
were fourteen men on board, who had to be 
got off by means of a life-buoy and lines, as 
in the case of the Salcombe vessel— a very 
difficult matter in a high sea and on a pitch- 
dark night. For this gallant rescue both he 
and his crew were rewarded. He received a 
gold medal from the Norwegian Government ; 
they silver medals. The Benevolent Associa- 
tion of New York also presented Doxrud 
with a gold medal, and each of the crew with 
a silver medal. He was likewise appointed 
a member of the Life-Saving Association, 
"Union et Constance," of Antwerp, and 
received the Society's Cross, which is only 
awarded for saving life. 

Captain Doxrud's latest experience in 
saving life at sea will probably be recollected 
by most. It took place in October last year, 
when, being then captain of the Pennland, 
he fell in with the Obdam, a steamship 
belonging to the Netherlands American Line, 
which was flying a signal of distress. She 
had broken her shaft, and was quite helpless 
and in a very dangerous position, being about 
forty miles to the south-east of Sable Island 
on the coast of Nova Scotia, towards which 
she was drifting. He took her in tow, and 
in spite of bad weather and the parting of 
his cable twice, succeeded in taking her into 
Halifax, to the lasting gratitude of her 
hundred and eighteen passengers and the 

Much has been said in these experiences 
about the merits and demerits of British 
seamen. But an incident, which I shall now 
relate, speaks for itself :— 

From Glasgow runs a line of steamships 
between that port, New York, and Jamaica. 
It is known as the Atlas Line, and for 
many years Captain Morris has been in its 
service. In the early part of last year, how- 
ever, his ship, the Ailsa, came to grief, and 
under peculiar circumstances. She sailed 
from New York on the 1st of March, but 




anchored in the harbour off Fort Hamilton 
because of the fog + While in that position 
the French Transatlantic steamer La Burgogne 
came into collision with her, striking her 
near the bow and tearing a great hole in her. 
The passengers in the A//sa ? fourteen in 
number, had just finished their luncheon, 
and the fearful crash of the impact was the 
first warning they had of the approach of the 
French liner, Tlie blow was a glancing one, 
otherwise the Glasgow 
boat might have been cut 
in two* Captain Morris 
immediately sprang to the 
bridge and touched the 
electric button, setting the 
winch and machinery in 
motion for hoisting the 
anchor. He then signalled 
to the engine -room for 
the engines to go ahead 
at full speed, and pointed 
the ship towards the 
Staten Island shore. 
Among the sailors and 
firemen we*e many Spani- 
ards and Italians. They 
rushed to the Ik ats when 
the collision occurred, 
knocked down two women 
passengers, severely injur 
ing them, and threatened 
to slab some of the male 
passengers who interfered. 
They seized the only 
available life-boat, climbed 
into it, and, cutting the 
ropes, pulled away from the ship, in defiance 
of the commands of the captain and the 
prayers of the passengers. The boat was 
still in sight when the steamer sank. 

Meanwhile Captain Morris was on the 
bridge doing all he could to encourage the 
others on board. The steamer was plunging 
ahead towards the shore, but was sinking 
deeper and deeper with every foot she 
travelled. When the decks were awash the 
captain ordered everyone into the rigging, 
and men and women swarmed up the rat- 
lines as far as they could get to be out of the 
sea, which had now covered the decks. The 
captain remained on the bridge till he 
was immersed up to the waist T and then 
clambered on to a boom. The Aiisa then 
gave a lurch and plunged bow first to the 
bottom, sinking in 30ft of water, The top 
of the smoke- jack and the topmasts remained 
above the surface. Two women refused to 
climb any higher up the rope ladders and 


From a Photo, fry Qmrgi If. Jtoefctrtod, A'ew Ybrk. 

stood waist-deep in the water. One of them 

fell from the ladder in a state of exhaustion, 

and was rescued by her husband, who 

plunged after her. A tug-hoat fortunately 

soon came to the rescue of the shipwrecked 

people, taking them all off except Captain 

Morris, who, seeing how crowded she was, 

and how low in the water, refused to increase 

the danger of those on board her by 

joining them, electing to remain on the boom 

until the passengers had 

been taken to the city 

and the tug could return 

for him. 

The Post master-General 
of the West Indies, who 
was a passenger on board 
the Aiisa, wrote to a New 
York paper respecting the 
conduct of the foreign 
sailors. He said : H All 
of the Anglo-Saxon race 
on board acted like men. 
The dastardly cowardice 
was only found in the 
foreign element, and I can 
only regret that passenger 
steamers should be com- 
pelled to leave port with 
such crews on board." 

Captain Morris received 
his training in the Royal 
Navy, hi which he holds 
the rank of lieutenant ; 
" and though," says one 
who knows him well, " he 
has not, perhaps, reached 
the top of his profession, he has, never- 
theless, always made himself conspicuous 
when opportunity has allowed, and never 
has he failed to fulfil his duty to the pride 
and admiration of all concerned." For 
saving a derelict in the Atlantic he was elected 
an honorary member of the Halifax Military 
Club. Apropos of the tragic end of the 
Ai/sa 7 it may interest some to know that 
when, 011 her last voyage, she had just left 
dock, she was called back by a passenger 
who had arrived late. Captain Morris 
ordered the engines to go full speed astern, 
at the same time remarking to an officer 
on the bridge that it was a bad omen to 
go back* 

Captain Randle, of the Anglo-American 
Line, is what one may call a typical Anglo- 
American. There are some Americans you 
cannot mistake, just p_s there are Englishmen 



their eyelids, and who can't wink without 
you knowing whence they came. It is not 
so with Captain Randle, You might be in 
converse with him for days, and not discover 
where he was " raised/ 1 and yet he is Phila- 
delphian to the backbone— " bred and born 
on Philadelphian waters," one might almost 
say. His father being a shipmaster, and 
always taking his family about with him, 
Captain Randle does not remember the time 
when he was not a sailor He went through 
all the grades of seamanship under his father, 
learning almost everything he knew from 
him, never being much at school on land. 
Finally, in i86r t he took charge of his fathers 
ship, and remained 
in command of her 
during the whole of 
the American War, 
on several occasions 
coming near being 
captured by Con- 
federate cruisers. 

Once he was chased 
by the Southern pri* 
vateer, Retribu iion y 
for a whole day and 
night amongst the 
West India Islands. 
He was on a voyage 
from Rio Janeiro 
vid St. Thomas to 
New York, and only 
got rid of his pursuer 
by the superior sail- 
ing qualities of his 
vessel, joined, no 
doubt, to his own 
superior seamanship, 
although, of course, 
he would not say 
so himself. The Re- 
tribution had been 
a tug-boat, but was 
converted into a 
schooner, and did a 

good deal of mischief to Northern shipping 
during the war. Captain Randle, however, 
was fortunate to escape her clutches, al though 
several shots came very near mauling his 

On another occasion the notorious Alabama 
gave chase to him, and would probably have 
nabbed him but for his clever seamanship. 
He was on the northern coast of Brazil, a 
port with which he was well acquainted, and 
so, under cover of night, was enabled to elude 
his pursuer by running inside the reefs with 
which the coast is lined. There he was safe 

captain RAN r ni-P- p or the avc 

Fi-iftn a Phftfg. by the dheapttJ* 

from pursuit, and inside the reefs he kept 
until out of the reach of the Confederate 

During the early part of his career, 
Captain Randle's experience was very largely 
gained in South American waters, although 
for three years he ran the packet -ship 
Tuscarora between Liverpool and Phila- 
delphia, After that he returned once more 
to his father's service^ and he tells one ex- 
perience in particular while in it T the recital 
of which is almost enough to turn a landsman's 
hair grey. They were struggling to get round 
Cape Horn, and Cape Horn came very near 
getting its watery winding-sheet round them. 

Randle was then 
second officer, and 
for three days and 
three nights he was 
down in the hold 
with his watch 
" baling and digging 
at the guano to keep 
the ship from sink- 
ing." "Yes, I tell 
you, we had a time," 
he finishes ; M and 
it was more by good 
luck than good 
management we got 
through ; or at least, 
it was Providence 
more than ourselves 
that brought us 

In 1868 Captain 
Randle quitted the 
sea for mercantile 
life on shore, and 
remained in business 
until 1873, "In that 
year," he says, "the 
American Line was 
started with four 
ships, I sent in an 
application for a 
masters berth ; but as there were so many 
applicants, I had to content myself with a 
chief officer's position in the Ohio. I went ten 
voyages in the Ohio, running between Phila- 
delphia and Liverpool Then the American 
Company came under the control of the 
International Navigation Company, of which 
Mr. C. A. Griscorn was general manager, He 
immediately transferred me from the Ohio to 
the command of the Vaderland, which ran 
between Antwerp and Philadelphia. After 
four years on the Fader/and I was transferred 
to the Nederhnd^ and after being two years 


Photo, Company* Southampton, 



in command of that ship, I was ordered to 
Barrow-in-Furness to superintend the con- 
struction of the Rhtinland, which, when 
completed, I commanded until 1883." 

Subsequently Captain Randle superin- 
tended the construction of a number of the 
company's other ships, including the Fries- 
/and, the Nordland, and the Western/and. 
When the Paris was transferred to the 
American flag he took charge of her. Subse- 
quently he superintended the construction of 
the St. Louis and the St Paul at Philadelphia, 
becoming master of the former when com- 
pleted — a position he still holds. 

During his career Captain Randle has 
made 600 trips across" the Atlantic, " in all 
weathers and under all sorts and conditions," 
he says. Two of his experiences connected 
with Atlantic liners may be given as samples. 
Both happened while he was in charge of 
the Rheinland. One took place in October, 
1880, the vessel being at the time full of 
passengers. When 500 miles west of the Scilly 
Isles they lost the entire propeller by striking 
some sunken wreckage. 

" Of course," says Captain Randle, de- 
scribing the mishap, " I put the ship under 
canvas, and we worked her back against 
strong north-westerly gales, and succeeded 
in reaching Falmouth in seven days. There 
she was docked, and a new propeller put on 
her, the passengers in the meantime having 
been transferred to another of our steamships 
and sent forward to their destination." 

On the same ship Captain Randle had 
one of his most terrible experiences. It is 
told best in his own words : — 

" We were running before a very heavy gale 
from the west It had swept all the way 
across the Atlantic, and a number of our 
boats had been carried away. One morning, 
after having been on deck the whole night, I 
was conning the ship so that she would be 
steered in safety, when I noticed that No. 1 
boat was adrift, and in a dangerous position. 
I gave orders to the second officer and 
his watch to secure it. While they were 
doing so, I saw an enormous sea rolling 
up astern. It was so tremendous that I 
knew it would come clean over the ship. 
I sang out to the second officer and his 
watch, * Run forward to escape that sea ! ' and 
then called down the speaking-tube to the 
quarter-master, who was at the wheel, to 
watch it carefully. I then sprang from the 
bridge into the main-topsail sheets, the 
mainmast being close to the bridge. I had 
no sooner got up there than the sea struck 
the stern of the ship, and rolled right over 

her, so completely covering her, that from 
where I was I could see nothing but the 
foremast and the smoke-stack. The whole 
of the ship's hull was for a few moments 
entirely submerged. I shall never forget 
the feeling I had as, looking down upon 
the seething mass of foam and spray 
beneath me, I said to myself, l My God, they 
are all gone ! ' It did not occur to me 
that if they were gone I should be done 
for too." 

" You did not think she would come up 
again ? " 

" No, I did not. But being all tight and 
strong, substantial in every part, the ship 
presently showed herself above the water 
again, coming up, as you might say, like a 
huge bird. I came down to the bridge, and, 
on looking round, saw that all the boats 
were gone ; the railing round the promenade 
deck was gone, and there was not a soul in 
sight. A great cloud of steam was coming 
up from the engine-room ; the skylight had 
been driven down upon the cylinders ; and 
the engineer, whom I saw standing in the 
second-class companion-way door, cried out 
that the ship was full of water below. I told 
him to go down and use his best endeavours 
to keep up steam. Then I began to look 
round for my sailors and officers. I found 
the second officer and the carpenter 
wedged in between the second-class com- 
panion-way and the skylight of the engine- 
room, both of them severely injured and 
insensible. I got them down below into the 
doctor's care, and then went forward to try 
and find out what had become of the other 
men. I found that the sea had carried them 
right forward under the turtle-back. Five of 
them were terribly injured, with thighs, arms, 
and ribs broken, while another had clean 
disappeared — gone away with the sea. 

" Shortly afterwards the sea seemed to 
moderate, and with the assistance of the 
watch below things were presently got square 
about the decks, and in due course we 
arrived safely in Antwerp. The curious 
thing is that all the passengers experienced 
of the affair was that it went quite dark for a 
moment or two down below ; but they were 
ignorant of the cause, and they never knew 
the risk they had run." 

Captain Cameron is another good type of 
the ocean -ferry commanders. He set out 
on his salt-water career as a midshipman- 
apprentice on the Black Ball Line, his early 
experience being in sailing vessels, the best 
"primary ^^^fe^ seamanship," 



in Captain Handle's view. In that, most 
masters of ships agree with him* From the 
Black Ball Line, Captain Cameron went into 
the White Star service. That was twenty- 
nine years ago. He 
has been in that 
service ever since, 
though not always 
in the Atlantic boats. 
He began in the 
company's sailing 
ships as first officer, 
and for four years 
was on the West 
Coast of South 

iik Indeed, I have 
been in all the com- 
panies 1 services," he 
said, u and in all 
parts of the globe. 
1 used to go round 
the world every four 
months. That was 
in the Australian 
trade — out by the 
Cape of Good Hope 
and round by the 
Horn back again — 
calling at Teneriffe, 
Cape Town, Hobart, 
and New Zealand, 
and atTeneriffe and 
Plymouth on the 
return voyage to 
London. For the 
last eleven years I have been in the Atlantic 
service " ; and it may be added that, as 
master of thu Teutonic^ Captain Cameron is 
one of the most popular commanders "on 
the beat." 

He confesses that the life suits him, and in 
truth it does not seem to have hurt him one 
half as much as the anxious life on shore 
hurts the stay-at-home landsman ; and that, 
notwithstanding the fact that before now he 
has had to be on deck forty-eight hours at a 
stretch, That was during a fog — "a most 
anxious time, especially about the Newfound- 
land Banks, where there are so many fisher- 
men, or when you have to feel your way 
along the coast with the lead." 

"The career is full of life and incident/ 5 
says Captain Cameron. "There is always 
something going forward on board to keep 
people on the qui vive y even if it is only 
noting the progress of the ship, and the 
excitement becomes intense if there is a 
chance of making a record passage/ 7 


From a Photo, by 

Captain Cameron's best record in the 
Teutonic is $ days 16 hours and 38 minutes, 
On one occasion the excitement was varied 
by watching the rescue of a passenger, who 

had jumped over- 
board, and the gal- 
lant third officer 
taking a header after 
him. Another time 
nine men were res- 
cued from a wreck. 
This, ho we ver , was 
in a terrifu: blizzard, 
when nearly all the 
passengers were 
below — " the worst 
blizzard I ever ex- 
perienced," says 
Captain Cameron. 

"We put out a 
boat to fetch them 
off, but it was four 
degrees below zero, 
and our men got so 
frost-bitten that they 
could not go on. 
So Wit took them 
in, and I backed up 
to the wreck. They 
then put one of 
their boats out, and 
we hauled them on 

Captain Cameron 
explains that "they" 
are the crew of the 
American schooner Jmie Reeves, and thai for 
the rescue, which took place off the Ameri- 
can coast, he received a watch from the 
President of the United States, 

There are few Atlantic skippers who have 
not had their experience of rescuing, Captain 
B. T. East a way, commanding the Sardinian , 
belonging to the Allan Line, whose steamers 
run between Liverpool and Quebec, via 
Londonderry, last year took off the passengers 
of the Mariposa^ which came to grief in the 
Straits of Belleisle. 

" They got off the ship on to the rocks," 
said Captain Eastaway, "and then made 
their way overland to a small bay, into which 
we went A singular thing connected with 
the rescue was this. On my last voyage I 
took out Mrs. Brown, wife of the Hon. 
Adam Brown, of Hamilton, Ontario, member 
of the Dominion Parliament, under the 
last Government, and she died on the 
passage within joo miles of the place 


fflflr, Ntib Yark, 



where she had been rescued twelve months 

Another singular experience in which 
Captain Eastaway took part was that of one 
sailing vessel towing another for a period of 
a week. This was the Palmy ra^ of Appledore, 
which his ship fell in with 700 miles south of 
the Lizard. She was bound from Liverpool 
to Calcutta, and had lost her masts. They 
towed her into Falmouth, and his owners 
were awarded ;£ 1,600 salvage. 

Captain Eastaway joined the Allan Line in 
188 1 as fourth officer, and was appointed 
captain in 1893. He is proud of being 
commander of the vessel which is known in 
the Allan service as "the Royal ship/' the 
St i rdin ia n having brough t 
from Canada the 
Duke and Duchess of 
Connaught, the Marquis 
of Lome j Lord Stanley, 
the present Lurd Derby, 
besides numberless other 
persons of note. He went 
through all the grades 
in his way to command, 
having begun his sea- 
career as an apprentice 
under Messrs, Wilson 
and Blair, of South 
Shields. r i heir ships 
traded chiefly to India 
and China, In one of 
his trips he had the un- 
usual experience of being 
180 days going from 
South Shields to Point 
de Galle, Ceylon. For 
three weeks they were 
becalmed off the Maldive 
Islands, during which time they drifted back 
eight miles, 

" I was never wrecked," said Captain 
Eastaway, " and I never lost a ship j but I 
once came very near losing my life. I hardly 
know what saved me, unless it was Provi- 
dence, I was standing on the bridge when 
a heavy sea swept it and the boats clean 
away. I found myself among the dihris on 
deck, none the worse for my experience, and 
exceedingly thankful that I was not over- 

Every sailor has had his hair-breadth 
escapes ; hut it would, perhaps, be hard to 
single out a narrower escape from drowning 
than befell Captain Eastaway's brother, who 
was an apprentice with him on board one of 
the Wilson and Blair boats. One day, while he 
was at the wheel, a heavy sea struck the ship 

\\ * 



" U 1 j-\ 




Frvm rt PhoU>. by L. K Demnfirait <£ Co., Mmiital. 

and washed his brother, who was alongside 
of him, from the deck. " I threw him the 
end of a rope," said Captain Eastaway ; " he 
caught hold of it, and with the back wash he 
was landed on board again. ;> 

Captain Eastaway preserves with religious 
care a memento of the sailors' food of the 
"good old days," and is a relic of his ap- 
prenticeship. It is a Noalrs ark carved out 
of the salt beef that used to be supplied for 
ships' use. 

11 Happily," says the captain, "in these 
days the food is examined by Board of Trade 
inspectors, and is of better quality." 

It would be difficult to light upon a more 
varied career than that 
of Captain Angus Mac- 
nicol, of the Allan Line 
Numidian y a native of 
Glasgow, whose first 
voyages were from Glas- 
gow, as apprentice to 
Charles Smith, of the 
then well - known City 
Line, to Calcutta, and 
who has no hesitancy 
about confessing that he 
is a thorough H Britisher," 
and would never have 
any but British sailors 
under him if he could 
help it He is certain 
they are the best in the 
world, and certainly not 
the worst to manage. 
"But/' says he, "they 
have to work with 
foreigners, and they des- 
pise a captain or mate 
who is a foreigner," Captain Macnicol 
affirms that he finds no more difficulty in 
managing a British than a foreign sailor. 
"Of course/' he says, "you have to pick 
your men, to treat them with consideration, 
though firmly, and they will do their work 
equal to any and better than most/' 

Macnicol's early experience, after his 
apprenticeship, was gained in Australia and 
the South Seas. He went to Sydney with a 
fellow- apprentice when out of his time, 
determined to make — both of them — 
^£2 5,000 in ten years. The ten years passed, 
however, without the fortune making its 
appearance, In Australia there was a good 
deal of coasting and a good deal of going to 
the diggings when there was a "rush," and 
quite as much coming back " broke-" New 
Zealand was tried with like success* Then 




followed some years of South Sea Islands 
trading, with Upolu as head-quarters. For a 
time he turned cotton-planter, for a time 
engaged in the " labour JJ trade ; but in 
neither of these lines was the ^25,000 gold- 
mine to be met with. Finally, thinking a 
change of scene might change his luck, he 
shipped as mate for San Francisco, and shortly 
after found himself on a vessel engaged in 
the Alaska fur-seaiing trade. In October 
they were cast away on Behring Island, not 
far from Kamtschatka. " We wintered there," 
said Captain Macnicol, (t building a house, 
and adopting Esquimaux habits, The mono- 
tony of our life was varied by my setting to 
work to brew some beer for the company, 
and burning the house down in the attempt. 
We got away from there in June, and arrived 
in San Francisco a month later. 

H After this/ said Macnicol, " it struck me 
that I was losing time, 
and making tracks for 
home, I started where 
I had left off. I joined 
the Stratkeam, one of 
the Allan Line sailing 
ships, as second officer. 
This ship was one of 
the fastest afloat, and 
was noted for her quick 
passages to and from 
New York. I finally 
commanded the Straih- 
earn — my first com- 
mand — in 1877* After 
being master of her 

for three years I was transferrer to one of 
the Allan steamers sailing out of Glasgow, 
and have been master in steamships ever 
since. My present ship, the Numidian^ I got 
new five years ago. That is the sort of 
career a man goes through to fit him for 
command of a big steamship. As a master, 
my experience has been uneventful I like 
the post and I like the life* We get a good 
deal of nasty weather ; but in a good ship 
there is nothing to be afraid of. It is a 
healthy life, you know T with sufficient ex- 
citement to make it interesting ; and 
you meet with a lot of nice people to 
chat with." 

"Then you think the sea is not a bad sort 
of career on the whole ? " 

M I do, as professions go, When I look 
round, I really see no career that would have 
suited me so well. You have to work for 
your promotion : so 
you have in every pro- 
fession. I have had 
very little to complain 
of. When I was an 
apprentice I had an 
excellent captain, who 
treated me with the 
utmost kindness, and 
did all he could to 
teach me my business. 
The only thing I did 
not like about seafaring 
in those days was the 
food ; but it is better 


£&. "NUMIDJAN*" 

From n Phnb}. by W. Vlenmti Lari*. HiritHhead. 

by Google 

Original from 

11 Haste to the Wedding \ n 

By Gertrude Kingston, 


LFRIDA, my dear, there is 
no mincing matters. You 
have made a mistake some- 
where and somehow. But 
where and how ? Ah! that's 
the question." So spoke 

Miss Chester to herself, as she sat at her 

dressing-table with folded arms and contem- 
plated her own image in the glass— a lovely 

reflect ion , with which even her critical gaze 

could find no 

fault. Six sea^ 

sons of over- 
crowded ball- 
rooms and late 

hours had not 

destroyed the 


peaehiness of 

her skin ; nor 

could she find 

the smallest 

c row's-foot 

round her eyes 

examine them 

as she would. 

She pulled a 

stray curl with 

her fingers and 

thoughtfully felt 

its texture. It 

was still silky 

and lissom, and 

flew back to its 

place on being 

released like a 

golden feather. 

No, the fault 

did not lie with 

her looks. It 

must, then, be 

a question of 

policy. She had 

seen so many of 

her girl friends 

marry during 

those past sea- 
sons: plain girls, 

dull girls, muscu- 
lar girls, skinny 

girls, tall girls, 

Vol. xiv^-27- 

short girls, they had all found husbands 
independently of their appearance -indeed, 
the ugliest had invariably carried off the 
best prizes. She had been first bridesmaid 
to them all, for it is in the unwritten 
code of bridal etiquette to provide your 
smart best man with a handsome best 
girl ; and yet she who had assisted in 
tying the knot so often had never, before 
Dolly Everdon's offer, received any invitation 

to assist at a 
— ^ wedding other- 
wise than in 
the capacity of 

Maria Lady 
Chester, her 
aunt, had gone 
out to dinner 
to-night, and 
FJfrida was left 
alone at home. 
Womanlike, she 
shuddered at 
the social for- 
mality of dinner 
alone in the ma- 
hogany dining- 
room under the 
searching eye 
of the family 
butler, and took 
refuge in that 
feminine mys- 
tery of " high 
tea," brought up 
on a tray to her 
1 jed room by the 
housemaid. The 
remnants of the 
meal stood on 
a small table by 
the fireside. 

Now, Elfrida 
had a healthy 
appetite, but tea 
must exert a 
less cheering in- 
fluence than the 
poet would have 

jpfr poet would have 

m^m^SX 1 ^ ™ «« umm^otmemms ^^ for 



she fell involuntarily into a melancholy 
mental review of the past six seasons, that 
nothing but a reassuring glance at her mirror 
could dispel. 

She had come out in town under the best 
auspices. True, her parents elected to 
remain all the year round in the country, but 
they had farmed her out with her two aunts, 
between whom she spent her seasons, and 
they were both social powers in their way. 
She did not know why, nor did anyone else, 
for the matter of that, for they were both 
dowagers with paltry jointures and small 
town dower-houses, but still they had social 
genius and used it to advantage. No one 
could see better people or go to better houses 
than her Aunt Maria — Lady Chester. Nor 
could anyone give her better and more 
temperate worldly advice, or collect more 
eligible young men round her tea-table. 

Elfrida was too. wise a girl to underrate the 
advantages of such a chaperonage. She 
took the whole blame of failure to herself. 
" I think," she said at last, with a sigh, after 
mature contemplation of her charms, " I 
think I am too well-dressed ! I fancy men 
like the modest violet best, because they 
fancy they will have to pay too much for 
Paris frocks for the full-blown rose. I may 
have a way of putting on my clothes as 
though they came from Doucet's, although 
Heaven and Lizzie alone know that they are 
manufactured at home by the sweat of her 
brow. I shall sin no more," she continued 
to herself, and rose to ring for her maid. 

When the maid entered, she pointed to 
the gown that lay ready for her on the bed. 
" Lizzie, put that shot silk frock away and 
get me something dowdy." 

Lizzie looked pu*zled. 

"You have nothing dowdy, miss." 

"Then get me out something old," re- 
joined her mistress, frowning. 

In a few moments her maid returned with 
a draggled arrangement of pale-blue silk and 
nun's veiling, that had done duty at many a 
crush during many a season, and asked, with 
disdain : — 

" Is this old enough, miss ? " 

Miss Chester picked at it with thumb and 
forefinger, and a slight contraction of her 
delicate nose. Then she answered, heroically : 
" It wants a fresh balayeuse inside, which 
you will have plenty of time to put in, as her 
ladyship will not call for me before 11.15." 

"Very well, miss," replied the maid, and 

Miss Chester looked at the clock on the 
mantelshelf and saw it wanted twenty-five 

minutes to nine. Hurriedly she flung a dark 
fur cloak round her and slipped downstairs, 
pinning on her hat as she went. 

In the hall she met the butler. 

" I am going across to Lady Ferveyed for 
an hour. Tell Lizzie I shall be back to dress 
a little after ten." 

Once out of doors she jumped into a 
hansom cab, calling the address to the 

A few minutes later she knocked at the 
door of a house in Victoria Square, and was 
instantly admitted. She walked straight 
through the small hall into a room on the 
left, followed by the man who had opened 
the door to her. Here she disappeared, 
wrapt in his embrace. After returning his 
kisses with some degree of warmth, she dis- 
engaged herself gently and said, " Well ! " 

" Take off your cloak and warm yourself 
by the fire, Elfie." 

" No, dear, I can't stay. Aunt Maria will 
be in any minute, and may miss me. Tell 
me your arrangements quickly, and let me 


" Well, I've got the license, and I've 
settled with the parson. The brougham is 
going to pick you up at the Eaton Square 
corner of Clieveden Place, so you won't have 
five minutes to walk, and you will find me 
on your way opposite the Duke of York's 
School in King's Road, Chelsea." 

" Have you anyone to be our witnesses ? " 

" Oh, yes ; the parson seemed quite accus- 
tomed to this sort of business, and said he 
would provide them — pew-opener and the 
sexton, I presume." 

"And then?" 

"And then you'll have a little luncheon 
with me, and we'll go off by train to the 
hotel at Sandgate for a few days. Won't it 
be lovely?" 

" Are you going to the Willshires to-night, 
Dolly ? " 

" No, darling ; are you ? " 

"Aunt wants me to," replied the girl, 
looking into the fire. 

" I wouldn't if I were you, just the day 
before we're going to get married, go out 
without me ! I'm going to stop at home 
quietly and think things over, and try and 
make virtuous resolutions for the future," 
said the soldier, reflectively. 

" Perhaps I can get out of going too," 
answered Elfrida, in a constrained tone of 
voice. Somehow, before the simplicity of 
this man's affection, she felt as if she were in 
church, and EInida never felt at home with 




He put his arm round her and pressed her 
to him, whispering : " I shall pray to God to 
help me be a good husband to you." 

After a pause, Miss Chester rose, " I 
must go now, or aunt will be in before me." 

41 I'll ring for Speede to get a cab." 

She stopped him as he put his hand on 
the belL " I don't want him to see me 

" Why not, Elfie ? — there's no harm. 
We're going to be married to-morrow/' 

u All the more reason," she rejoined, 
taking up a photograph to avoid meeting the 
frank eyes seeking hers. Dolly, sentimental, 
almost made her uncomfortable. 

" As you will, sweetheart," he said, putting 
his hat on his head. " I'll walk round to 
Victoria, and put you into one myself. It 
is dark, and no one will see m* n 

Back again alone in her room, 
Elfrida Chester shuddered, She 
remembered that she had promised 
to get secretly married the following 
day, and what had seemed to her 
romantic, enthralling, absorbing since 
many days, now appeared a mad 
and unintelligible freak .when loom^ 
ing close upoij her. Why had she 
consented ? Because the fascination 
of knowing that a man was ready 
to sacrifice prospects and property 
for love of her was as bread and 
water to this starved girlish heart 
that had never been loved before. 

Or, if she had been loved, no man 
had had the enthusiasm to give up 
the good things of this world to 
possess her as his wife. For Elfrida 
had very little money, and perhaps 
even less heart, albeit her passion- 
ately erotic nature stood her in lieu 
of one. 

When Dolly Everdon pressed his 
lips to hers she had been ready to 
go to the other end of the world 
with him. She had consented to 
leave her aunt's home the following 
day to get married by special license 
at some suburban church, to risk 
the unforgivingness of parents and 
guardians, all for the curiosity of 
learning the mystery into which so 
many of her girl friends, younger 
than herself, had already been 
initiated. And now, here, left alone 
own room, she was considering the 
bility of suiting her appearance to popular 
taste with the unspoken desire of attracting 
other men* 

Deep down in her soul, unconfessed, un- 
recognised, sprang the 4i hope eternal " that 
something unforeseen might help her in the 
eleventh hour from the final step which 
should make her wife to a penniless hussar; 
yet with it all she experienced a sense of 
burning shame in the eyes of the world 
she loved that she y the much-photographed, 
much-beparagraphed Elfrida, should have 
remained single until the age of twenty -five. 
Morbidly she felt it a slur on her character. 

By 11,15, w hen Aunt Maria's footman 
told her that the carriage was at the door, 
Elfrida stood before her pier-glass in her 
draggled blue frock, and as she looked into it 
her lips broadened into a smile. After the 
fashion of three years ago, the sleeves were 
small and tight, and dragged themselves 

in her 
ad visa- 


perforce off a satiny but girlish, white 
shoulder, The little gathered bodice, for 
which she had grown a trifle too stout, 
revealed, in an unconscious way, a little more 
than thai modestly-cut garment had intended; 



and the skirt, unlike the present fashion of 
falling in wick-, bell -shape folds, clung lovingly 
to a small thigh that folk) wed the line to the 
knee, and tapered downwards to a narrow 
blue foot 

The girls at the ball would stare aghast at 
her new whim of w dowdiness." As for the 
men, she would see for herself whether her 
reasoning of six seasons had any truth in it, 
and whether they were so easily gulled if 
once understood. Fortunately, as she fetched 
Aunt Maria from the house where she had 
been dining, the latter saw nothing but 
her niece's outline in the darkness of the 
brougham, and 
it was not before p— 
she was well 
launched in the 
ball - room that 
the Dowager 
observed her 
toilette, A cry 
of anger escaped 
Lady Chester 
when her eyes 
fell upon the 
worn blue crepe. 
She called 
Elfrida to her 
side. The latter 
affected not to 
hear, and waltzed 
persistently with 
her partner* 

44 Shall I call her for 
you?*' asked an elderly 
Field - Marshal of the 
Dowager Marchioness. 

u Who is she dancing 
with, Sir Godfrey ? " said 
Lady Chester, for all 

"With Robert Best, 
the brewer, I believe/' he 
replied, with a smile, " I 
will tell her you want her." 

" No, no, Sir Godfrey," 
exclaimed Maria Mar- 
chioness, with an In- 
dulgent smile ; li leave her 
alone if she is amusing 
herself. It is not fair to 
disturb young people. 
They say the brewery is to be turned into a 
company. Have you heard so ? " And the 
two wandered off to the supper- room f gossip- 
ing about the probable price of the shares. 

Meanwhile Elfrida determined not to 
think of to-morrow, but to amuse herself to- 



day. She danced incessantly, furiously, with 
the hope of out-dancing her own thoughts. 
How many of us know that effort with the 
fear of a fatal step to be taken, keeping time 
to our feet in the dance ! 

Seated in the conservatory side by side 
with Mr. Best, (lie brewer, she realized sud- 
denly that these were her last hours of 
freedom, and burst into tears. 

Mr. Best did not know how to deal with 
tears that could not be wiped away by 
jQ s. d. He had been through so many of 
these scenes, eventually set right by a cheque 
from him. This plainly, almost shabbily 

dressed yet 
beautiful girl he 
instinctively re- 
cognised was not 
of those who 
could be paid 
for. He found 
himself pitying 
her, and * not 
know! ng the 
reason of her 
tears, could im- 
provise no words 
of comfort. He 
was at last be- 
t r a y e d into 
speaking love. 
She listened, 
dried her eyes, 
said n ei t her 
"Yes" nor 
"No," but an- 
swered that she 
was tired, and 
would ask Aunt 
Maria to take 
her home. Press - 
ed for a reply, 
she told the 
brewer he would 
think differently 
to-morrow of his 
question to her. 
Miss Chester 
was, of course, 
thinking of her 
own situation 
and the news of 



her approaching 
marriage not twelve hours later, Mr, 
Best, on his side, interpreted her words to 
meet his case, and was delighted to find a 
disinterested, girl who, far from clutching at 
his thousand^ 1 'IMl^nfift' ffihie for maturer 
flectiotAN I V£fidl Ift' GfcG MlfeHJf jifof'lo ve. 




After a restless night of indecision, Elfrida 
rang for her maid, and ascertained that her 
ladyship was not to be called until eleven 
o'clock. She must act now or never. Cross- 
ing to her desk, she reflected that a letter 
and messenger until one could be found 
would cause too much delay. A telegram, 
then. Yet how to word it? "1 do not want 
to get married," the gist of it, was a cruel 
thing to wire to a man whose only fault was 
his love for her. 

Finally she decided to dress and go herself 
to explain in person. She slipped out un- 
perceived, found the brougham at the place 
indicated, and entered it A few steps 
farther, Dolly waved to her from the door of 
a jeweller's shop. The coachman drew up, 
and her lover hastily joined her. As they 
drove off he threw his arm round her, 
saying : — 

"By George, Elfie, I had forgotten the 
ring ! I only thought of it just now, when 
I was waiting for you. I looked in the 
jeweller's window to pass the time, and saw 
some wedding-rings marked for sale. Then 
I remembered we had not got one." 

" Is it a nice, fashionable, narrow one, like 
Lady Flora's?" asked Miss Chester, absently, 
wondering how she could broach the subject 
on her mind. 

" No, dear ; that had to be made, and we 
wanted this at once. Let me try it on your 
finger, Elfie, to see if it fits ! " 

"Don't! Don't! It's unlucky!" cried 
Elfrida. After a pause, during which the 
hussar replaced the ring in his pocket, she 
made another effort. Clearly she must speak 
now, or else hold her tongue for ever. " I 
was awake all night, Dolly." 

" What kept you awake ? The idea of me 
for a husband, Elfie? Well, it's too late 
now," said Dolly, with a loud laugh and a 

It had failed this time, and she had not the 
heart, or was too weak of heart, to stop his 

" To what church are we going, Dolly ? " 
she asked, again mentally reckoning how 
long a drive it would be, and how many 
minutes were left her to strike the blow for 

He answered, still laughing : "To a nice 
little parish church over Hammersmith way. 
I have lived there nominally and legally 
speaking since three weeks — that is, I have a 
room in the parish where I keep a port- 
manteau. The portmanteau contains an old 
uniform !" His hand sought hers. "Your 
fingers are frozen, Elfie. I believe you had 

no breakfast. Let me stop at a wine mer- 
chant's in the road and get you a glass of 
port wine ? " 

" No, thanks, I won't have anything. No, 
I couldn't take breakfast. I was too 

" My darling," exclaimed the soldier, 
leaning forward and looking into her face, 
" you're not well ; was that it ? " 

" Well, dear, you know I don't get married 
every day. Only once in a lifetime, I fancy," 

"Only once! I hope so devoutly, for my 
sake, Elfie," he rejoined. 

She attempted a feeble laugh. If relief 
was to come it must come from herself, and 
she was waxing weak under Dolly's enthu- 
siasm. Besides, time was being lost. "It 
might be once too often," murmured the 
exasperated bride-elect. 

The colour faded from Dolly Everdon's 
face as he turned to contemplate the woman 
by his side. She looked away, ashamed. 

" Are you serious ? Then say so at once. 
If you do not think you love me enough, there 
is still time," he said, sternly, as he laid his 
hand on the check-string. 

" Don't, Dolly ; the clergyman is waiting 
and the witnesses, and there's the license, 
and the ring," implored Elfrida, hating her- 
self for her indecision, yet unable to decide 
for herself. 

" Is that all that keeps you to your word — 
the trifling expense I have incurred ? In a 
few minutes all the money in the world can't 
undo it." 

" I know, I know," moaned Elfie, wringing 
her hands. "What frightens me is the 
expense afterwards — of living altogether — 
I have only ^iooa year, and you have but 
^250 that your father allows you, besides 
your pay " 

" You knew all this before ! " interrupted 
Dolly, sullenly. 

"So I did, but you never allowed me to 
discuss it seriously before. You put me off 
with a kiss " 

" So I will now," cried the soldier, suiting 
the action to the word. 

She disengaged herself from his embrace. 

" No, Dolly, let me speak. last night it 
occurred to me, what should we do if your 
father stopped your allowance ? " 

" Oh, he's not such a sneak ; besides, as 
long as we love each other, it will all come 

" But supposing he did ! I thought it all 
out last evening " 

" I thought you told me you were going to 
a ball, Elfie J|TY OF MICHIGAN 



"So I was— at the Willshires." 

" It must have been dull to give you time 
for domestic economy." 

"I thought of all this, Dolly, when I came 
home this morning." Mr. Everdon looked 
at her curiously. 

" Don't you think, little woman, in view of 
the step you were contemplating to-day, it 
would have been wiser to have stayed at home 
and thought it over quietly yesterday ? " 

Her lover's tone had an irritating effect on 
Elfrida, and as a result of this she was regain- 
ing possession of herself. She answered, 
angrily : — 

" You know very well I had to go. Aunt 
Maria expected me to, and I couldn't tell her 
by way of an excuse that I was going to be 
married to-day, when she is the one person 
who is not to know." 

He perceived the change of manner, and 
looked out of the window at the shops they 
were flying past. He had a faint notion 
they were now in the neighbourhood of 
Waiham Green. 

" Was there anyone nice at the ball ?" he 
asked, still contemplating the passers-by. 

" Oh, yes, nice enough ; but I missed 

" Darling ! Who did you flirt with instead 
of me?" 

" Flirt ! " echoed Elfrida, now seriously 
angry with her lover because she had not 
used the loophole he had generously offered 
her. " Flirt ! " 

There was some suspicion in the glance he 
threw over her. 

" Well, then, who did you speak to ?— if 
you like that better." 

" Don't be disagreeable, Dolly. I am not 
your wife yet." 

Dolly's voice rose as he exclaimed : " Don't 
beg the question. Who did you spend your 
evening with ? " 

" I danced with a great many people," 
replied the girl, sulkily, with the secret hope 
of egging him on to some violence that might 
form an excuse to break away from him. 
Dolly was waxing excited. 

"With whom did you dance more than 
with any other ? " 

Miss Chester shrugged her shoulders. " I 
can't remember ! " 

" Answer me. You're lying to me," re- 
torted Everdon, roughly. 

" I should say with Mr. Best as much as 
with any other," said Elfrida, with an assump- 
tion of indifference. 

11 Best, the brewer ? " 

Elfrida nodded assent 

" I knew it ! " cried Everdon, hitting the 
palm of his right hand with the fist of the 
other. " I knew some rich chap had been 
making love to you. You never thought of 
poverty before." 

"What nonsense," whispered Elfrida, under 
her breath, wondering whether her release 
was near at hand. 

" But," continued Dolly, brutally, "lie only 
makes lave to a girl, does Mr. Best — under- 
bred millionaire that he is. He's not a 
marrying man. He knows a trick worth two 
of that ! " 

Her lover's taunt stung her into ex- 
claiming : " Not a marrying man, indeed ! 
Well, he asked me to marry him, then, last 
night ! " 

There was a silence broken only by the 
roll of wheels over the hard road. Everdon 
felt the beating of his heart almost shake his 
body. His breath came in short, quick 
gasps, as he leant over the woman he loved. 
"And you? What did you say?' 7 he mur- 
mured, hoarsely, watching her intently. 

Again she shrugged her shoulders, indif- 
ferently. She was a little frightened at the 
effect of her words, and kept her eyes on 
Dolly's clenched fist as she responded : " I 
said neither ' Yes ' nor ' No ' ! " 

The man's eyes rested on her lips — the 
lips that had just spoken such words of 
treachery. Staggered, stunned, he lifted his 
hat, and unconsciously wiped the beads of 
cold perspiration that rose on his forehead. 
At that moment they were approaching the 
Metropolitan railway .station. He shook 
himself as if awaking from a nightmare, and 
his words came with effort from a parched 

" I am going to put you down here at the 
station. I shall go on by myself to tell the 
parson he won't be wanted, and to give 
the sexton and his wife a tip. The poor 
woman is sure to have got herself some new 
gloves to witness our — your marriage." 

His quiet voice moved Elfrida to tears. 

"You're not going to give me up, Dolly?" 
she sobbed. 

"You gave me up, Elfie, when you said 
neither * Yes ' nor * No ' to Robert Best. 
Coachman, please pull up at the railway 
station," he shouted, leaning out of the 

They drew up by the pavement. Miss 
Chester burst into a fresh paroxysm of grief. 
" Where am I to go ? What am I to do ? " 
she wailed. 

" Take a firstdass ticket to Sloane Square, 

and gefj N KTOTnf'F^ldffi^Att time for 



luncheon. And if you take my advice, 
before you sit down to a meal, you'll wire to 
Mr Best accepting his offer, before he 
repents of it." 

"I have no money for my ticket," 
stammered Elfrida, between her sobs. He 
threw a shilling into her lap, roughly, without 
a word. 

"Oh, Dolly/ 3 burst out Elfrida, shocked at 
the alteration she perceived in her lover's 
face, "tell me you're not angry with me," 

" No, I am not angry with you, little 
woman. It's not your fault, it's the way 
youve been bred Good-bye, and don't 
forget my advice to you." 

"You or/7/ come to see me sometimes?" 

Now, her face was her fortune, she knew, and 
she cowered in a corner of the brougham, 
afraid to move. At the sight of her 
involuntary movement he dropped his 

11 Get away, for God's sake, before I forget 
you are a woman and that I loved you t " 
cried the soldier, hoarsely, covering his eyes 
with his hands. 

The woman scrambled out of the brougham. 
At the entrance to the railway station she 
turned to look at the lover she had just left 
She saw only the panel of the carriage 
shining in the sun as it disappeared down 
the road. 

Out of sight, the man who loved her rolled 

fr ■ - 

*l & *H r * ft 

1 a ^Bf. *J ^B " ml v Bi 

I 1 1 



v \?L v/y / * bk 



pleaded Miss Chester, through her tears, 
" for I do love you ! " and she put up her 
lips to be kissed. Everdon raised his arm 
with clenched fist. For an instant El fie 
thought he would strike her across the face. 

on to the cushions, biting them in his 

*' My God ! She's not worth crying for," 
he exclaimed, in his agony ; t( but I wanted 
her, all the same," 

by Google 

Original from 

The G. P. O, Museum. 

By Frami.ey Steklcroft. 


HE high officials at the G.P.O., 
from Mr. Lamb downwards, 
took an interest in the pre- 
paration of this article, and 
hence it is that the contents 
of the museum are now made 
public fur the first time. Now, the Post 
Office records go back a long way ; they 
even mention David's letter to Joab, the 
result of which was murder. It will sityv 
our purpose, however, to commence with the 
bad old days of the last century, when 

carried the mails between York and Selby 
was stopped by an armed footpad, who 
"collected" the whole of the mails. He 
also removed the bridle of the postboy's 
horse, and a few minutes later the animal 
galloped away with his helpless rider* 

It seemed a pretty hopeless business. 
The postboy himself could give no detailed 
description of the robber. " He was dressed 
in a drab jacket, and had the appearance of 
being a hicklar " — not much of a clue, this. 
A reward of X 200 was offered for the appre- 
hension of the highwayman, but 
he was never found — nor was the 
missing mail-bag, until nearly 
eighty years later. In 1876 
an old wayside inn was being 
demolished at Churchill, near 
Selby, and in the rafters the 
workmen found a worn and 
rotten coat, a sou*- wester hat, 
and the long-lost mail-bag— the 
one seized by the highwayman 
in T 798 and reproduced in our 
illustration. In digging fresh 
foundations on the site of the 
old hostelry, a number of skele- 
tons also came to light, telling 
of foul play at the old inn. 

There was always some subtle 
affinity between inns and high- 
waymen. The a ceo m pa n y i ng 
notice (No, 2), delivered with 
every letter in that particular 
bag, tells its own tale. The 
Post Office thought it necessary 
to issue this notice by way of 
explaining the otherwise un- 
accountable delay in delivery. 


mail robberies were 
common occurrences, 
and no one took life 

The oil -canvas mail- 
bag here shown (No. 1) 
is an interesting relic. 
Here is its history, as 
given us by Mr. J. G. 
Hendy, the indefatigable 
curator of the museum. 
One evening in February, 
1798, the postboy who 

Thit Letter was enclosed in the Nbwfort Letter Bog, for 
London, of 6th Nov. 1822, which had been stolen, and was 
found on the 17th Inst, concealed over a Hay-Loft at the New 
Passage Iror, with the Contents mutilated. 

General Post-Office, 
jg/STidy, 1824. 


Original from 





4?lQOO Reward. 



On its way from London, ©w the Night 

of the Llth S ept Must th e fol lowing 


Ipswich Bank, 5, & I0£ Notes. 


WoodtaldgeBank, 1, 5, &10f Notes 


Manninertree Bank, 1, 5 f A 10A Notes. 

ALEXANDERS $ ttum jFKF* ^r Ox 

Hadleigb Bank 1 ( 5 t & 10L Notes. 

ALEXANDERS $ Co. on F«F5 & Ox 

Particulars of which will be furi iisbcd mt the different Ba nker* 

Whoever will gi*t Information, either at ALtiXAJN'DERS and C* 
or fit FRYS and Co. A Mddred'i Court Poultry, w tbjti the 
Parti** m&v t»c apprehended, shall on hi* or their ^B™dS 
and the Recovery oflh ■ Property, receive the above RfcWAlU/ 

rnttrd b T Si. Ckeumt, Ilk TWofiM?flw JWwcL 1h*m«Io^ 

~ hats, bags, snakes, urn* 
brellas, fishing tackle, 
boots, foods, etc. 

The R.L.O. used to be 
called the Dead Letter 
Office. Frequently, how- 
ever, the "dead" letters 
arc found to he very much 
alive. Leeches, lizards, 
salamanders, frogs, tame 
rats and mice, tarantula 
spiders, weazels, young 
alligators, cats and dogs, 
tortoises, bees, pigeons — 
all these and many other 
live specimens have 
found their way to the 
Dead Letter Office. Once 
a dormouse turned up in 
a box. It was put aside 
until claimed. When the 
owner applied for it it 
was found to have escaped. 
Three months later the 
little ani- 


ma I was 
ed by a 
clerk in 
the mid- 
dle of a 
ball of 
string, en- 

The startling poster next reproduced {No. 3) 
is one of the first things that attract the eye on 
entering the G.P.CX Museum, The Ipswich 
mail was " held up " in the most approved 
style on the night of September nth, 1822, 
And it was well worth while, for the booty 
amounted to ^£3 1,199 * n bank-notes. The 
reward was afterwards increased to ^5*000, 
or ^2,000 for the conviction of the highway- 
men without recovering the notes. These 
latter were printed in black ink, but the 
banks interested began immediately to print 
their notes in red ink, and warned all whom 
it might concern not to accept the black- 
printed notes, save from people well known 
to them. 

The curiosity next seen (No, 4) is the skin 
shed by a snake whilst detained at the Re- 
turned Letter Office* The undeliverable 
letters, packets, etc., at the R.L.O. contain a 
miscellaneous lot of things, Here is a list 
compiled from memory by one of the officials: 
Bank-notes, cash, jewellery, books, music, 
gloves, cheques, postal-orders, legal docu- 
ments, false teeth, dress-improvers, puddings, 

Vol *iv.-2& 

joying its 
winter sleep ! 

This leads one on to the 
narration of curious post- 
office incidents, A Portu- 
guese once handed in this 
telegram ; " Is ar 8." He had 
to be cross - examined in 
French and Spanish before it 
became clear that the message 
was meant for : " It is all 
right 1 ' 

In connection with the 
many excellent stories set 
down herein, I may explain 
that the G.P.O. daily receives 
a vast number of official 
reports. From this stupend- 
ous mass of miscellaneous 
matter, curiosities and fact?fi& 
are sometimes gleaned. Being 
absolutely true, the incidents 
and anecdotes are the more 
remarkable- Here, for in- 
stance, is a capital story : A 
few months ngo there was 


NO- 4. — SKIN OP 





no end of excitement among the foreign 
population of East London. They were 
popping in and out of the post-offices all 
dtiy long, making anxious inquiries. What 
was the matter with them ? Why, they had 
heard grave rumours about the validity of 
Anglican orders^ and they were therefore 
anxious not to run undue risks in buying 
the paper money of the British Post Office ! 

A funny telegraphic misunderstanding : 
Mr. F. Litchfield, the well-known art dealer, 
exhibited some panels of old tapestry at 
the Manchester Jubilee Exhibition, Want- 
ing one of these returned, he wired : 
" Please send panel 8x10 — Venus and 
Adonis — Litchfield." The departmental 
head of the exhibition was awav, and his 
clerk returned the message to the Post 
Office as u not understandable." The Post 
Office people, struck with a bright idea, 
then transmitted the telegram to the city of 
Lichfield, and received the following reply : 
" No such firm as Venus and Adonis 
known here. Try Manchester ! " 

The next illustration (No, 5) from the 


ro fJTH 


Left his 


On the Night of THURSDAY, 
the 26th of February, will return 
to them, he may be assured of 
being RECEIVED with EVERT 

3, IHis. 

*I.LUf*^ta| 11 v flQLl'i * B lhr »r W.GLIfcPQ*., 1U*M<T CTBUT.* 

NU. 6.- 



G.P.O* Museum shows an old leather mail- 
bag, which was in circulation for many years 
between Limerick and Monasterevin. This 
was before 1836, This bag used to be slung 
outside the coach. It was an old bag, and 
the local officials had constantly applied, but 
in vain, for a new one. At last the crash 
came. A letter containing a bank draft for 
^420 was lost out of the hole in the bottom 
and never recovered. Then the bag was 
changed without delay. 

Oh, the curiosities of those reports in the 
museum ! A telegram was once sent to 

Thomas Brown, of Chapel Street, . It 

couldn't be delivered, for the curious reason 
that everybody in that village was known 
by a nickname, and in the absence of Mr. 
Brown's nickname nobody knew anything 
about him. The record " poser J ' put to the 
Post Office would be hard to find, but this 
will do : " On what date and at what time 
should a telegram be handed in at Land's 
End in order to be delivered in Honolulu 
exactly at nine o'clock on Christmas morn- 
ing? What would be the charge, and what 
the best route to send the message?" 

It is an interesting fact that before the 
police organ, Hut and Cry\ was established, 
the Post Office undertook the distribution of 
all kinds of inquiries, rewards, and police 
notices. The above reproduction (No. 6) 




is merely one handbill out of thousands 
preserved in the museum. These hand- 
bills were distributed by the mail-coach guards 
among the country towns and villages. They 
referred to ** horrid murders," absconding 
bankrupts, and missing property or friends, 

Those were free and easy times. One 
letter in the Muniment- room, dated from 
Lombard Street, 3rd July, 18 19, jogs the 
memory of the secretary (Mr. Freeling) on 
the subject of " two kegs of the finest Dutch 
herrings/' which were to be sent direct to 
Carlton House for the Prince Regent These 
breakfast delicacies were to be put under 
Post Office care and cover, presumably to 
save the expense of carriage ! Talking of 
the mail-coach drivers and guards reminds 
us that those worthies offered strange excuses 
for unpunctuality, They used to declare 
that when they left London the Metropolis 
was on fire in several places, and that an 
armed and riotous mob had stopped the 
mails! This sort of thing so alarmed the 
country people in those days (when railways 
and telegraphs were non-existent) that the 
Postmaster - General was forced to issue 
reassuring proclamations. Subsequently the 
Department thought it advisable to become 
a sort of news agency. Here is one of its 
"specials " : — 

"Whitehall, 28th January, 1817.— His Royal 
Highness the Prince Regent was assaulted in 
his carriage as he returned in state to-day 
from the House of Lords, and his person 
endangered. The most effectual means are 
taken to preserve the public peace, and all is 
quiet in the Metropolis/' But nothing illus- 
trates the dearth of news better than the old 

General Post Office f 

February 10, 1821* 

Mr. FREELING requests the 
Postmaster to make Enquiries 
of the Master of any Ship arr i v- 
ing from Jamaica, into the 
State of the DUKE of MAN- 
Inform him of the result by the 
first Post* 



can fail 





handbill here re- 
produced {No. 
7). The Duke 
of Manchester, 
it should be ex^ 
plained, was 
General, and he 
had gone to 
Jamaica for the 

of his 

No one 
to be 

by the 

which the 
secretary of the 
Post Office seeks 
to gain news of 
his absent chief. 
Two of the 
identical staffs 
issued to the 
Post Office em- 
ployes during the 
Chartist Riots of 
1839 are next 
reproduced (No, 
8). It was our 
own artist who 
these, as well as 
all the other 
relics and curios in 
The Chartists, as 

their name from the People's Charter, 
which contained six sweeping changes in 
the Constitution of the country, One of 
the first of the riots broke out at Newport, 
under John Frost, In those troubled days 
all ranks in the postal service, from the 
hurnbltst clerk Lo his unapproachable "chief," 
were provided with these staffs in order that 
they might act as special constables when 
occasion arose, 

A very interesting relic is the ancient tome 
which Mr. Hendy, the curator, rescued from 
destruction in a damp cellar at the G.P.O. 
It is a manuscript book, dated 1678, and Jt 
contains the accounts of the Post Office 
when that Department was the private 
perquisite of the Duke of York, brother to 
Charles II. Old brass-bound watches, which 
were formerly used by mail guards, and were 
regulated and locked at head - quarters to 
prevent tampering ; thrilling records of the 
stirring fights of the Post Office packets; 
ponderous pistols that recalled the highway- 
man era; k-'MgJbofitl'flaccount of the revenues 



[--,!.].]. |. i PGSTMEH UUklNt THfi 


the G.P.O, Museum, 
everyone knows, took 



of the Post Office in 1784 (a narrow parch- 
ment over 15ft. long) ; these and hundreds 
of other quaint objects are to be seen in this 

The letter here reproduced (No. 9) has a very 
interesting history. At 5,45 on the 19th of 
November* 1862, the P. and CX liner Colombo 
struck on a sharp reef at Minicay Island. 


The vessel was on her way to Aden from 
Point de Galle. She went to pieces very 
quickly. All lives were saved, but only part 
of the mails. Some months later, however, 
another attempt was made to recover the 
remaining mail-bags, and these were at length 
fished up from the bottom of the sea. Then 
came an extraordinary scene at the G.P.O. 
The mails from Australia and the East 
arrived in London in a deplorable condition 
— mostly pulp, in fact For days, hundreds of 
the more recognisable letters were toasted on 
huge gridirons erected in front of enormous 
fires in the clerks' kitchens. The stench was 
intolerable and penetrated everywhere. 
Money and trinkets dropped from the letters 
as they were handled, but there was a general 
patching-up and sealing when the ill-fated 
missives were sufficiently baked. Eventually 
many went to their destinations specially 
stamp ed, (l Saved from the wreck of the 

The letter reproduced above was one of 
these. It had been written upon a vessel on 
the Yang-tse-Kiang River, by a sailor, named 
Peterson, to his father in London. Peterson 
senior worked at Maudslay's, the great engi- 
neers, of Lambeth. Although the letter had 
been three months at the bottom of the sea, 
the writing was perfectly legible. 

One learns that there are some very 
interesting Post Office curios scattered up 

and down the country. Whenever possible 
these are acquired by the museum ; but the 
Mail Coach Pillar, on the Brecon Road, 
is not exactly portable. This pillar is 
erected 2 l /> miles from Llandovery, "as a 
caution to Mail -Coach Drivers to keep 
from intoxication/' The inscription goes on 
to say that the pillar was erected in memory of 

the Gloucester and 
Carmarthen Mail 
Coach, driven by 
Edward Jenkins, 
December 19th, 
1833. Edward, 
unhappily, was 
drunk at the time* 
He drove the mail 
on the wrong side 
of the road, met a 
cart coming the 
other way, and then 
lost control over 
his leaders, who 
swerved violently. 
Next moment the 
whole concern went 
down over the pre- 
cipice, 121ft "At the bottom, near the river, 
it came against an ash tree, when the coach was 
dashed into several pieces." The inscription 
gives the names of the outside passengers 
who were killed Finally* we read on the 
pillar that it was "erected by John Bull, 
inspector of mail coaches, with the aid of 
^13 1 6s, 6d, received by him from forty-one 
subscribers, in the year 1841^ 

Obviously the Post Office is brought into 
contact with all sorts and conditions of people. 
Therefore are many of its stories delicious. 
Here is an incident related by an official : "A 
town post-office had been closed, as the 
receiver had been suspended. I was one 
day walking up from the station to speak to 
the postmaster, when on passing the closed 
office I saw two ladies reading, with evident 
amusement, a notice on the shutters. Here 
is that notice : * This office is closed tem- 
parory, by order.' 

" I tore the paper down and took it to 
the district head office. The postmaster 
there said it was ( a villainous exhibition, cal- 
culated to bring the Department into dis- 
credit 1 He thought a little, and then sat 
down and wrote : * This office is closed 
temporary. 1 

11 To this also I objected, much to his amaze- 
ment, and after a long argument he sent his 
daughter upstairs for a ponderous dictionary, 
Having consulted this he sat down and pro- 





j/ /Jp^ 

**£r — ^ 



duced the following : * This office is closed 
temporally.' " 

Yet another capital story, saved from a 
local report An o!d woman wanted to send 
a pair of trousers to her son, and she claimed 
to be able to send the parcel by book -post, as 
its contents came under the heading of 
"articles and packets open at both ends!" 
Strange and fearful suggestions are constantly 
being made to the Department, Here is 
one: "On payment of a small extra fee, 
telegrams relating to death, etc., might be 
inclosed in envelopes of distinctive hue, 
so as to avoid unnecessary shock to the 
recipients ! " 

Perhaps the most interesting of all the old 
letters in the museum records is the one here 
reproduced (No. 10). It notifies to Benjamin 
Franklin his dismissal from his office as 
Deputy Postmaster - General for America- 
Really, very few people seem to be aware 
that among the many distinguished servants 
of the Department Franklin must be num- 
bered. The great statesman and scientist 
was appointed "Deputy Postmaster-General 
for the Colonies of North America" on 
August 12th, 1 761, This warrant is signed 
by the Earl of Bessborough and Robert 
Hampden, Franklin (who is popularly 
remembered as the man who brought down 
the lightning from heaven by means of a 
kite) continued to hold his incongruous 
post until the outbreak of the VV ar of 
Independence, After the date of the letter 
reproduced, he continued for some time to 
correspond with the Department about his 

Digili; ^lOOglV 

accounts. Some of that corre- 
spondence was peculiar. 

On March 24th, 1776, he 
wrote to the British Post- 
master - General in London, 
Then came the war. In 1 783 
the British Post Office replied 
to Franklin's seven -year- old 
letter, the reply stating apolo- 
getically that the writer " had 
been out of town for a few 
days / * Surely a unique specie 
men of official correspondence. 
Mention of interesting Post 
Office officials reminds us (let 
it not be accounted unto us 
for a ludicrous non sequiiur) 
of old postwomen. The de 
lightful old lady whose portrait 
is here reproduced (No. 11; 
is Jane Smith, auxiliary rural 
postwomau at Holsworthy. 
Jane is the oldest postwoman 
in the service, being seventy-four years of age. 
And yet she trudges ten miles every day 
delivering her letters and parcels. She has 
served twenty years as postwoman* We are 
also able to present the portrait of a post 
woman of the London district (No. 12), 

NO, 11,- 

J-'tvm a] 


1 gin a I tiwvice. 




This photograph was taken in 1862, The 
original came to the Controller's office one 
day, from Hounslow, to make inquiries 
about her pension. When matters were 
settled, she offered her 
portrait (taken in full 
official uniform) to the 
clerk, but he refused 
to accept it, thinking 
probably that he would 
have to send it along 
to the Treasury with 
the pension papers. 
Another official, how- 
ever, ran after the old 
lady and begged her 
to give him the rejected 

Talking of post- 
women, at Sahiwal, in 
India, a native woman 
has delivered letters 
for twenty years, with 
credit to herself and to 
the entire satisfaction 
of the inhabitants. She 
is absolutely illiterate, 
but her wonderful 
knowledge of the 
residents enables her 
to deliver letters in- 
fallibly, once the ad- 
dress has been read to 

Many of the officers of 
have acquired distinction 
curious ways. Some are 

of postal curiosities j concrete and otherwise. 
For, apart from tangible relics, there are 
preserved thousands of delightful anecdotes 

and funny stories. 


From a Photoffra}*h. 

the Department 
in more or less 
poets. Mr. W, J. 
Ant ill, postmaster of Hordle, near Lymington, 
has a distinction of his own. He claims to 
be the only man ever born under the roof of 
Old Temple Bar, in its single chamber over 

These, however, are 
buried away in records 
and reports. Here is 
a curious story : A 
seafaring man went 
into a telegraph office 
at a great London 
terminus. He told the 
clerk he wanted to send 
a telegram. " Very 
well," said the official, 
"go over there and 
write it, ? ' pointing to 
the little compartment 
where the forms and 
pencils were kepL The 
man had his head 
buried in one of those 
for three-quarters of an 
hour. Then he came 
back* " I done it," he 
said. "Done what?** 
"Writ the telegram." 
"Well, where's the 
form?" The man 
stared " He was told," 
he grumbled, " to go 
over there and write 
it w Well, he had. He 
had written his tele- 
gram on the wall 
the story is against the 
French lady complained 
newspapers. The sub- 

the central arch 

at Child's Bank, 

Very primitive 

wilder parts of 

His mother was caretaker 

is the postal service in the 
even Great Britain, Not 
long ago a crofter, named McDonald, while 
working on the shore in North Uist, saw a 
buoy floating in the water quite close to him. 
Bringing it ashore, he read on it, (< To be 
opened." The contents were found to consist 
of five letters and five pence in coppers, also 
a note with a request to the finder to post 
the letters at the nearest post-office. This 
was done* The letters were addressed to 
friends in Skye and in Glasgow, The little 
mail-box had been sent adrift from St- Kilda, 
and had reached the point of landing (sixty 
miles) in little over a week. 

The G.P.O- Museum is the fountain-head 

Digitized by G< 

Often, however, 
postal officials. A 
of the loss of many 
postmaster of the village was instructed to ask 
her the titles of the newspapers. He did, and 
reported their names as follows : " // me 
ma nqae. Pluskrs. Journaux. 7 ' 

One of the Post Office surveyors overheard 
the following in a country town : Little Boy : 
11 Mamma, how do the messages get past the 
poles without being torn?" Mother (sapiently): 
" They are sent in a fluid state, my dear," 
Startlingly comic incidents like the following 
are happily rare in the service. A dignified 

old lady one day entered post-office 

(we are asked to suppress the name of the 
village) and asked : " How long will this 
letter take to reach my friend in Italy ? rt 
Quick as thought came the reply apparently 
from the counter-clerk: "On Friday, ma'am, 
unless ke*$ out with his organ." It was a 
ventriloquial joke, rude but funny, on the part 
of a young man who stood writing a telegram 
near the doon 

The photo, next reproduced (No. 13) was 




taken by the driver of the ill-fated mail-carl 
shown. Here are the details of the incident : 
The driver of the Newport to Brecon mail- 
coach left Newport as usual at 2.20 a.m. one 
Monday, and he should have arrived at 
Abergavenny by 4.40, Near Llanellen, how- 
ever, he found that the river had overflowed 
the roadway. The water was about level 
with the axles, when the horses jibbed 
and backed the cart into the ditch. The 
frantic struggles of the horses, aided by the 
rapidly rising water, speedily carried the cart 
over the hedge into an adjacent field, and as 
the harness held the horses to the cart, they 
were both drowned. The water rose higher 
stilt, and the distracted driver had to climb 
on to the top of the vehicle, among the out- 


side parcels. Here he remained, shouting for 
help, till daylight Even then his rescue was 
very difficult, The mail- bags and parcel- 
baskets were eventually reached and taken on 
to Abergavenny. Here the bags were opened 
by the postmistress, Miss Bigglestone, and 
the letters taken out and spread on trays in 
front of big fires. The practice of tying the 
letters tightly together in bundles saved them 
to a great extent, and in no case was the 
address wholly obliterated. 

This reminds us of the difficulties with 
which this great Department of the public 
service frequently has to contend. The 
report of the Indian Post Office speaks of the 
stoppage of the mails by man-eating tigers 
and herds of wild elephants. The native 
postmaster's cash is occasionally deficient, 
and when the inspector comes round he 

finds that the culprit has probably taken an 
overdose of opium or drowned himself in a 
well : 

At Blantyre, British Central Africa, we 
find the postmen clad in long frock-coats, 
knickers, and fez, but no boots or stockings. 
They carry Snider rifles, which they treasure 
above all things — even the mails. One of 
these native mail-carriers was once taking a 
supply of stamps to the postmaster of 
M'pimbi. Crossing a swollen stream he came 
nigh unto death, He lost his mail-bag, but 
saved his beloved Snider. 

In the same district (between M'pimbi and 
Zomba) the mail - carriers are frequently 
stopped by lions ? and have to take refuge in 
trees. Yes, the Imperial British Post Office 

has many hind- 
rances. A sparrow 
who nested in a 
church (above all 
places !) was found 
to have its nest 
lined with unused 
and stolen penny 
stamps 1 and rats 
have been known 
to steal postal- 
orders and square 
yards of half-penny 
stamps — all of 
which had to be 
made good by the 

The museum 
records also speak 
of an American 
humorist who put 
certain *' rules and 
regulations" on 
the outside of his letters. He intended to 
have these rules published subsequently in 
a Post Office Guyed. This was the kind of 
thing: U A pair of onions will go for two 
scents." 4I Alligators over 1 oft in length are 
not allowed to be transmitted by mail," etc. 

No one has any scruple about economizing 
at the expense of the Post Office. Listen to 
this capital story about the late Archbishop 
of Canterbury. He travelled a good deal, 
and therefore often found his bill for 
telegrams too heavy. He hit upon a capital 
scheme for reducing expenses. One day his 
chaplain was astonished to receive the follow- 
ing cryptogrammatic telegram : " John's 
Epistle III., 13, 14." Completely mystified, 
he turned to the text indicated, and read as 
follows : '* I had many things to write, but 
I will not with ink aind pen write unto thee ; 






but I trust I shall shortly see thee, and we 
shall speak face to face. Peace be to thee. 
Our friends salute thee. (ireet the friends 
by name " The Primate, instead of invest- 
ing in a costly code-book, had adopted the 
simple plan of using the Bible for the 
purpose of condensing into five words a 
communication which contained forty-five ! 

Then there are the people who laboriously 
prepare pictorial puzzle envelopes and ad- 
dresses. We have selected a few of these 
for reproduction. 

The accompanying envelope (No. 14) looks 
hopeless at first glance, It is a fair sample of 
the kind of thing which is specially invented 
to try the patience of 
the , splendid staff of 
officials at the G.P.CX 
Hold it horizontally, on 
a level with the eyes, 
and you will read the 
address : " Miss J. M. 
Holland, Albion House, 
Alcester, Warwickshire," 

The next reproduc- 
tion {No. 15), specially 
photographed from the 
Curious Address Books 
at the G,P.O, Museum, 
is even more typical of 
mis - directed ingenuity. 
This is a picture-puzzle, 
the address being : "Miss 
L. J. Gardner, Wood- 
lands, West End, South- 

Of course letters in- 
advertently misdirected 

are far from rare, and 
the pains taken with 
these at head-quarters 
is beyond all praise. 
There is a funny story 
in this connection. A 
lady staying at one of 
the newest hotels in 
Aix-les-Bains wanted to 
write to her servant in 
England, and used the 
hotel note-paper, which, 
however, was so full of 
the amenities of the 
establishment that the 
address was obscured. 
There was no reply, 
l^ater on the same lady, 
fearing that something 
was wrong, wrote to a 
friend, asking her to call 
upon the servant. The latter was alarm ed> 
too. She had replied to her mistress, but the 
letter was returned, " Not Known." She 
produced the envelope, which was addressed : 

" Miss , Hotel Britannique, Ouvert toute 

Fannie, Ascenseur Hydraulique ! " 

It is impossible for the ordinary person to 
realize the difficulties which beset the British 
Post Office in various parts of the Empire. 
In certain districts of Persia, within our 
11 sphere of influence," Turcomans utilize the 
telegraph poles as practice targets, and (worse 
still) as camp fires ! On the section between 
Ispahan and Meshed- i-Moogab robbers 
molest the inspector and his workmen. 

jy v^- 



KO. 15-— A PILTUBM.I- A3DIC.KS!*, 



T*e H&YAK H#Tf L. C »M«*ltCtf 

OOHUO h*t tftCCO* f*#**rrra 



)<+ 9 +>4JFtr 


Then, in the autumn, when the camels 
cast their coats, they rub up against and 
knock down the telegraph poles. So 
does the South African trek ox. Passing 
travellers help themselves to the wires in 
parts of Persia, and every year in the 
same region over 2,000 insulators are 
stolen for the sake of the wrought iron in 
the bolts. 

Occasionally the staff themselves are a 
trial. An Irish official, who had absented 
himself on the first three days of the 
week, was asked for an explanation on the 
Thursday morning. He declared, feel- 
ingly, that he must have overslept him- 
self ! Another specimen of the queer 
questions put to the Post Office — this 
time, to the Cape Post Office : A man 
wrote from Arizona to know whether 
Cape Colony was " a suitable country 
for a poor man of my occupation, 
which is cow-punching. " 

The trials of the Post Office would 
indeed make an entertaining volume. 
Just look at this letter, whereof the 
envelope (No. 16) and first page (No. 17) 
are here reproduced. It stands out pre- 
eminent, even in the annals of the G.P.O. 
And yet it is from one distinguished 
man (the late Lord Denman) to another 
(Sir James Fergusson). The G.P.O. was 
enabled to retain the whole of this unique 
letter, simply because the addressee 
was Postmaster-General. The envelope 

VoL xiv.~29. 


is addressed: 
"The Right 
Hon. Sir James 
Fergusson, P.C., 
25, Tedworth 
Square, S.W." 
The letter was 
written by his 
lordship from the 
Royal Hotel, 
Edinburgh. It 
commences : — 

" Dear Sir 
James, — I 
hardly think of 
coming before 
nth to London. 
I am afraid I 
might," etc. 

One great 
source of trouble 
is the extraordin- 
ary interpreta- 
tions put upon 

rules issued for the guidance of the public. 

" People should always take or retain the 



fjr fm 




* <&*- 


m n 1 ri ^ 

I f n-i 

NO. 17.-1- KM J'A<,K OF I.OKD DbNMAN S Lfc'lTCK. 



numbers of postal -orders," seems a simple 
piece of advice. ' Yet persons have been 
known to take this too literally, and to cut 
out the number from the order itself— greatly 
to the disgust of the payee, who is refused 
payment on the ground of " mutilation." 

Fire, by the way, is responsible for the loss 
of. many postal-orders. People take letters 
from their envelopes and then carelessly 
throw these latter on the fire, only to realize 
a moment later that a money-order has been 
destroyed. Boxes of charred fragments are 
often received at the Money Order Office 
with pathetic requests for payment. Even 
the poorer classes, it seems, are wofully care- 
less about postal-orders. They leave them 
about so that their children or dogs get hold 
of them ; and they will tell you at the museum 
of blanched orders that have been received 
after passing through the wash-tub. 

The curator of the museum has his eye on 
the postal systems of every land ; though, of 
course, he gives more attention to the postal 
services of our own Empire. He will tell 
you of bicycle posts, and elephant, camel, 
and reindeer posts. The Mashonaland mail, 
it seems, gave a lot of trouble owing to the 

do." We leave the reader to discover the 
other funniosities for himself. One surmises 
that the cartographer must have been in the 
vicinity of " Doosidbad Straits " when he 
drew up this extraordinary map. 

All sorts of intensely interesting facts are 
recorded in the G.P.O. Museum. How many 
people, we wonder, have heard of the fighting 
Post Office Packets ? It seems that for over 
150 years the Department maintained a fleet 
of armed ships, and there were stations for 
them at Dover, Harwich, Holyhead, Milford, 
and Yarmouth. Falmouth, however, was the 
head-quarters. From 1812 to 1815 no fewer 
than thirty-two fierce actions with American 
privateers were fought by the Falmouth 
packets, and of these engagements seventeen 
were entirely successful. 

Just a few more stories. An old lady called 
at Banbury post-office, and asked the post- 
master, Mr. J. Davenport, for information 
about the marriage laws. Her daughter's 
husband was going to turn his wife out of 
doors. Could he do so legally ? Mr. 
Davenport advised the old lady to consult 
the clergyman who married the couple. She 
had done so. Well, had she been to the 

>EA y eruATER 


horses dying through the bite of the tsetse 
fly. Well, it was found that zebras were 
" immune," and the result was that some were 
caught and broken in. They were terribly 
difficult to inspan, kicking and biting vigor- 
ously. However, the mail-coach may now 
be seen crossing the Limpopo River, near 
Fort Tuli, drawn in splendid style by eight 
brilliant zebras. 

Here is an eccentric post-card (No. 18). It 
purports to be a map of a little-known district 
in Central Asia. It is really an invitation, 
" Can you come to tea on Saturday? If so, 

superintendent registrar? Yes, she had 
been there, too. Then the applicant herself 
was struck with a bright idea. She would 
telegraph to Mr. Gladstone, the then Premier. 
She did, and got a reply saying that the right 
hon. gentleman was on the Continent. This 
was the last straw. The old lady complained 
bitterly about Mr. Gladstone's absence, and 
she flounced out of the post-office, saying 
that if he wanted to go gallivanting about 
Europe like this, he might at least leave some- 
one to manage his business for him. 

Is it possible for a postman to be a 



NO. 10i"A LETTEft WHICH t:c n: E . ■> NOT PE EEJJVEKEP* 

matrimonial agent? Yes, it is, A high official 
recently said in evidence, given before a com- 
mittee, that one of the postmen in the North 
of England produced a book a short time ago 
showing 200 marriages that he had brought 
about and taken part in celebrating ! 

Here is reproduced (No, 19) a comically- 
pathetic envelope, which is pasted in one of 
the Curious Address Books. The letter was 
addressed to plain Job David, at Llandough, 
near Cardiff, After some time it was 
returned, with an indorsement in red ink, 
evidently written by one of the villagers, 
"Job David is ded and berid." 

The museum contains many pictures of 
interesting posts and postrncn of the world. 
Of these we have selected a French postman 
for reproduction (No- 20). It will be seen that 
the man is mounted upon .stilts. On thvso 
he goes his daily rounds through the low, 
swampy districts about Bordeaux. The low- 
lying country hereabouts gets parched in the 
summer, and then, when the rains come, 
floods are the order of the day. It is a 
queer spectacle, though, to see the postman 
wading through huge lakes with giant strides, 
examining the contents of his wallet as he 

One regrets that all the funniosities of 
the G.P,Q, Museum cannot be given here, 
"Please send me an ominous form,'* writes 
someone to the Savings Bank Department- 
He meant a nomination form* Funnier still is 
the following : An application was received by 
the then Postmaster-General, Lord Wolverton, 
from three trustees of a Friendly Society* 
From certain erasions in the letter, it was 
evident that much discussion had arisen as to 

the proper manner in which 
his lordship should be 
addressed in a letter signed 
by three persons. " My 
I.ord " had obviously been 
considered incorrect, and 
the application was ulti- 
mately commenced "Our 
Lord! " 

The Department, as we 
all know, takes extra- 
ordinary pains to deliver 
letters, no matter how ad- 
dressed. If the thing can 
be done, it is done* Here 
is one of the most curious 
addresses on record : 

" Mrs. Wearing a large 

Bear Boa> Violet flowers in 
Bonnet, Promenade (mornings), Aberyst- 
with." The letter was From the lady's son t 
who had mislaid his mother's seaside 
address. Th e let t er was su cces sf u 1 1 y d e 1 i vered, 
[In addition to Mr, J, C Lamb, CB,, 
C.M-G., we desire gratefully to acknowledge 
courteous assistance rendered by Mr. Herbert 
Joyce, C.B* ; Mr, J, Ardron ; Mr. J, C. 
Badcock ; and Mr. Sherwin Engall, of the 
Post Office Magazine.] 


by Google 

Original from 


By S, Blair McBeath. 

L1ZZARDS have been aptly 
described as u mad, rushing 
combinations of wind and 
snow, which neither man nor 
beast could face." In less 
brilliant language, they are 
gales or hurricanes accompanied by intense 
cold, and dry, driving snow. Their favourite 
play-ground is the north-western part of the 
United States* particularly the States of North 
and South Dakota, which, during recent 
years, have had hi Iter reasons for remembering 
the icy touch of the Storm King. 

trating passenger traffic and stalling great 
trains for many foodless days, burdened and 
paralyzed the land. 

But the Westerners have learned by bitter 
experience how to handle the blizzards. 
Huge ploughs have been constructed to cut 
through the drifts for the relief of buried 
towns and snow-bound travellers, 

The effects of a blizzard can be realized 
from our opening illustration of an almost 
buried train near Groton^ South Dakota. 
The picture does not portray the fearful 
fury of a blizzardj or the blinding, bewilder- 


Frfj m a Photo, by] 



JrvUtn^ ifttutfi jT4|i>jfU, 

The blizzards come almost without warn- 
ing and leave suffering in their wake. In 
January, iKSS, a fearful blizzard swept the 
west from Dakota to Texas, the thermometer 
in some places falling from 74deg. above 
zero to 24deg, below it, and in Dakota 
dropping 4odeg. below. The weather was 
fine and clear, when suddenly the sky 
darkened, and was filled with snow and ice 
as thin and fine as dust or flour t driven in 
front of so furious a wind that the human 
voice could not be heard six feet away. 
Farmers were caught in the fields and 
frozen to death ; children on their way from 
schools, unable to breathe in the fierce wind, 
were suffocated ; and titanic snow-drift^ pros- 

ing density of the snow, but it gives an 
idea of the quantity of snow that falls 
during a blizzard. And now, having gotten 
into this plight, the next question is how 
to get out of it It becomes a serious 
question, this being stalled on the prairie, 
perhaps twenty miles from anywhere, and a 
train-load of passengers and nothing to eat 
and nowhere to procure provisions. 

Mostly all locomotives are provided during 
the winter season with a snow plough, as 
shown in the illustration at the bottom of the 
next page. This kind of plough is worked sue- 
cessfully by returning down the cleared track 
for about a mile, then opening the throttle, and 

under UftlMs^F?Sl(^^N *** comes 



From a PWft bv &- -Sfei»Aan*t\ (imM, -Rrnlft {htkotn. 

the locomotive at top speed and takes 
a header into the drift, The remarkable 
photo, shown at the top of this page shows 
the locomotive just at the precise moment the 
drift is struck. Pictorially the effect is quite 

artistic. The 
glimpse of the 
smoke-stack of the 
locomotive belch- 
ing forth steam 
suggests the quiver- 
ing shock of the 
impact of the iron 
monster we cannot 
see, and, with the 
dainty semblance 
of the outstretched 
pinions of a startled 
bird, the snow 
gracefully yields to 
the violent onset, 

however, the snow 
is successful in re- 
sisting the header 
of the locomotive, 
as we see in the ac- 
companying photo- 
graph. When this 
occurs, and the locomotive cannot cleave a 
passage, then recourse must be had to man 
and the shovel, a slow process at best, pro- 
vided there is not a very lengthy drift to 
pierce. Should the drift prove a lengthy one, 

rr**m a Ffotv, h v \ 






then the snow plough 
is dispatched to the 
scene of action, or 
rather inaction- The 
snow plough is placed 
in front of the locomo- 
tive, and with a run of 
about a mile takes a 
header into the drift. 
One noted snow 
plough, aptly named 
the "Storm King," has 
a deadweight of sixty- 
five tons, a weighty 
enough argument, one 
would think, to over- 
come the scruples of 
the most obstructive 
snow that ever fell from 
the heavens, 13 ut his- 
tory teaches us that 
Kings have occasion- 
ally met with opposi- 
tion from their own 
subjects, and the 
"Storm King" cannot 
be expected to reign without finding his royal 
path obstructed by obstreperous subjects, and 
how can they be punished when there are so 
many of them ? 

How? Well, easily enough. A boxed-in 
structure on wheels containing an engine 


From a Photo, by J. H, Jone*, Rsdfletd, South Dakota. 

for rotating a wheel- 
like contrivance in 
front does the work, 
and does it well 
Locomotives — there 
are generally two— are 
put in the rear, and 
bunt the rotary gently 
into the snow. Now 
glance at the accom- 
panying i 1 1 u s t ra t i on , 
and sec the business 
end of a rotary plough. 
You will notice it is a 
series of iron plates 
differing only from the 
order of slates on a 
house-top in a space 
intervening between 
each plate or knife. 
This rotary, as the 
name implies, revolves 
very rapidly, and in 
action is as certain as 
an operating auger on 
wood. The rotary, as 
shown in the next photo., simply bores a way 
through the snow, and the white cloud that has 
the appearance of escaping steam in front of 
the black smoke is the snow as it is thrown 
from the rotary. 

From the same illustration an idea can be 

tfrvm a Wwto, bg] 


[*'. ill. Joft&S, li&A/lvUt* >'0*tfA iJuA'Crta. 




formed of the distance the snow is thrown by 
the rotary. The modus operandi is beautifully 
simple, and as persuasively effective as a book 
agent No matter how deep the snow on the 
railroad tracks, when the rotary gets to work 
its authority is as unquestionable as that of a 
London policeman when he says, 4I Move 
on." And what an artist the rotary is in 
working ! 

The rotary snow-plough is an object of 
perennial interest even to the Westerners them* 
selves, and especially to the passing traveller 
who meets a blizzard for the first time. There 
have been men who have travelled especially 
through Dakota in the winter for the sake of 

passengers dies and a look of blank despair 
appears. It is then that the arrival of 
the plough becomes eagerly awaited. The 
passengers clamber to the roof of the train or 
to the top of the snow-bank, and longingly 
peer through the sky for a slight speck of 
black in the distance. Then, as the plough 
gradually nears the stalled train, comes a 
thrilling cheer of welcome, which resounds 
for miles across the white prairie. 

Our last photograph shows a drift through 
which the rotary has bored, and at the same 
time gives an idea of the depth of snow with 
which a Dakota blizzard can powder Nature's 

Frum a t'hvtii, frj^J 

waiting for tiik " ROTARY.'' W* H, Jona w Jks^/ieW. SvHth Imkvta, 

getting caught in a snowstorm, in order that 
their experiences on board the snow-bound 
train might be incidentally and picturesquely 
written up for the Metropolitan Press. The 
blizzard leaves the passengers fairly cold, but 
in a state of friendly hilarity, which conduces 
to general intercourse and time-killing games. 
In the excellent illustration on this page 
are shown a number of passengers waiting 
for the rotary to do its work. Here the snow 
averages a depth of some t 4ft The men enjoy 
themselves by climbing over the smoke-stack 
into the snow-bank and sitting down. They 
play cards and make bets on the probable 
length of time they will spend in the snow. 
Gradually, however, the food and drink 
begin to give out, and with starvation staring 
them in the face the merriment of the 

A word is due on the heroism of the rail- 
road employes. Many a man has sallied forth 
to obtain relief for a belated train, and who- 
ever ventures takes his life in his hands. The 
great danger lies in getting lost and aimlessly 
wandering around on the open prairie. With 
a wind blowing at a velocity of thirty to forty 
miles an hour, with the thermometer any where 
from thirty to forty degrees below zero, with 
the snow swirling so densely that it is impos- 
sible to distinguish objects ten yards distant, 
with the scurrying flakes clinging to the eye- 
lashes and freezing instantaneously, a man is 
brave who will face this. Then there is the 
physical strain of struggling on foot through 
the snow into which one may sink middle 
deep at every step More than one hero lost 
his, Ufe w.tb«,manrw^dui™ the past winter, 

23 2 


and was not found till months afterwards, a 
sacrifice to his own bravery and a victim to 
exhaustion and cold. 

Fortunately blizzards do not happen with 
alarming frequency, and though each visita- 
tion paralyzes the railroads, and suspends 
out-door locomotion of all kinds, reducing 
the little towns to a state of siege, for they 
are utterly dependent on the railroad for fuel 
supplies, withal there is a spirit of making 
the best of it in any circumstances, I call to 
mind one wag of a storekeeper, whose side- 
walk was piled with snow 6ft. deep, who 
effected a clearance and decorated the snow 
bank in front of his store with a top-boot, 
upside down, having a placard underneath 
which pertinently asked, "Say, mister, is my 
hat on straight ? " And I remember a kind- 
hearted citizen, one of a little crowd watching 
the rotary at work, reminding another that 
his nose was freezing, to have the compliment 
returned to him, tersely and most certainly to 
the point, by the 
rejoinder, " So's 
yours ! " 

And now let us 
leave the towns 
for a moment, and 
revert once again 
to photo. No, i. 
The buried train 
is in the fore- 
ground, and be- 
hind the train 
observe the miles 
of level country 
"expanding to 
the skies." The 

occasional farm-horses appear as mere dots 
in the picture, and by studying this view a 
moment you should derive an impression of 
the featureless character of the prairie. Trees 
are practically unknown, the eye sweeps 
across in a comprehensive glance and sees 
nothing to relieve the sameness, and yet 
that snow-covered level has a beauty of its 
own. It is a prospect in which the white 
snow, the brilliant sun, and the cloudless sky 
form a panorama of a height and breadth, of 
an expansive, wholesome breeziness, which 
charms in its suggestion of illimitableness. 

To drive behind a pair of bronchos, to 
feel the exhilaration brought with every 
inhalation of the ozone-laden air, even though 
the thermometer be 3odeg + below zero, to do 
this mile after mile and hour after hour, with 
not a sound to break the silence, save that 
of the sleigh hulls' rhythmic tinkle, engenders 
a communion with self which brings the 
conviction of man's littleness home to hirr> 

and develops a 
spirit of reveren- 
tial admiration 
for the work of 
the Creator of the 
Universe, sug- 
gested by that 
** something " be- 
yond the visual 
range limited 
to the distant 
sky-line of the 
snow - covered 
prairie, horizon- 
bound though it 


Frvm * PAolo, b v J. H. Jon**, Jtatfeld, itoutA Itakotv. 

by Google 

Original from 




HERE was once a soldier who 
had served his King faithfully 
for many years, and gained 
many a badge of honour, which 
adorned his breast When 
peace was declared, he 
obtained leave of absence and set forth on 
his travels, his shako on his head, a piece of 
bread in his knapsack, and a draught of 
water in his flask. His purse was empty, but 
his heart was full of faith and hope. 

Passing one day through a wood, he heard 
a sound that bespoke a spring near, and 
hastened forward intending to rest there and 
refresh himself in its cool waters. On his 
way an old man met him, who begged : 
li Have pity on me, kind soldier, and give me 
a small piece of bread. lam so exhausted 
with hunger and fatigue, I can no longer 
hold myself upright." 

The soldier at once opened his knapsack 
and gave the old man his last piece of bread, 
although he himself was very hungry* 
Arrived at the spring, he murmured : u A 
draught of clear water must this time satisfy 
both thirst and hunger ! " and, after refreshing 
himself and refilling his flask, be continued 
Vol. xiv.- 30. 

A Story for Children. 
From the German. 

his journey. Soon the sun shone down 
fiercely, and about midday, as he was cross- 
ing an open heath, he became very weary ; 
still he toiled bravdy on, for at a short 
distance ahead were a few trees, beneath 
whose shade he determined to rest and 
refresh himself with a draught of water from 
his flask. But ere he reached the longed- 
for shade an old man met him, who said : 
" Have pity on me and give me something to 
drink : I perish with thirst ! " 

The soldier handed his flask to the old 
man, who emptied it to the last drop, then, 
thanking his benefactor, proceeded on his 

Hunger and thirst now sorely tormented 
the poor soldier, and far and near, nor 
village, nor inn could be seen, nor any living 
being in the fields through which he passed. 

Towards evening, being almost exhausted 
with hunger and thirst, he plucked a few ears 
of wheat, rubbed them between his hands, 
ate the grain, and then lay down to rest 
before a cross that stood by the wayside. 

Suddenly there stood before him the two 
old men be hnd met c;irlv.*r in the day. 



"ask therefore a favour from the inexhaustible 
bounty of Heaven." 

" Well," replied the soldier, " if it be allow- 
able, the thing I should like best from 
the favour of Heaven would be a pipe that 
always remained full of tobacco, if 1 smoked 
it ever so often and even lent it to others to 

The old man handed him a short pipe and 

" You gave your last drop of water to the 
thirsty," said the second ; " tell me therefore 
what you desire." 

The soldier considered. 

"Well," said he, at length, "if Heaven 
wishes to give me something more, a sack in 
which I could catch and keep anything I 
pleased would suit me well enough." 

" Here is what you require," said the old 
man, handing him a sack. " When you wish 
to use it, say these words : — 

' Wonder-sack, open thee ! 

Then in shall hie 
All whom I name to thee, 
Safe there to lie ! ' " 

As he finished speaking, he likewise dis- 

The soldier crossed himself devoutly, and 
repeated the Paternoster. Then he lit his 
pipe, hung the sack over his left arm, and 
went on his way, singing gaily. Hunger, 
thirst, and fatigue were all forgotten. 

Ere nightfall he reached the capital and 
entered by the gate leading straight to the 
Jewish quarter, in whose streets shop touched 
shop. As soon as the sellers saw the stranger, 
they hastened from their stalls, and crowding 
round him, began with shrill cries to extol 
their wares. They pulled at his clothes, 
urged him to enter their shops, and wrangled 
among themselves, until the soldier, almost 
distracted by their clamour, angrily untied 
the strings of his sack, crying :— 

" Wonder-sack, open thcc! 
Then in shall hie 
All whom I name to thee, 
Safe there to lie. 
Jews, enter ! " 

Thereupon the sack opened itself out wide, 
and immediately all those who pressed round 
the soldier, dealers, women, and children, fell 
head over heels into the sack ; then the cords 
fastened again of themselves. The soldier 
shook the sack, threw it over his back, and 
wandered on, singing. The Jews began to 
scream and weep, lamented their sad fate, 
and begged for liberty. 

" As soon as I let you out, you will 
begin anew to torment everyone who passes 
through," said the soldier. 

" No, no ; we will never do so any more," 
screamed they. 

The soldier then untied his sack, shook 
them all out, and went on — intending to see 
everything in the great capital. 

That evening the King heard what had 
occurred ; he ordered the soldier to be sum- 
moned, and said : — 

" You are a brave soldier, for you have by 
yourself overcome the whole crowd of Jews. 
Could you not measure your strength against 
the demons who have taken possession of 
my father's kingly castle, and obliged me to 
abandon it and move into a new palace ? If 
you succeed in scaring them away, I will 
give you gold in abundance and make you a 

" I know not if I shall succeed, O King, 
but I will willingly try," replied the soldier; 
and, taking a lantern, he went straight to the 
castle, that was quite empty, resolved to pass 
the night there. Seating himself on an iron 
settle in the large hall, he placed his light on 
the table and awaited what should take place. 

As midnight struck a frightful noise 
resounded through the old castle, the doors 
flew open of themselves, and on the threshold 
appeared a two-horned demon, who beat 
time on the floor with his long tail. 

" How could you be so bold as to venture 
hither ? " he asked, grimly. " Answer, or I 
will wring your neck ! " 

" I am a soldier on my travels," replied our 
hero, smoking on calmly. " If you wish to 
wring my neck, at least wait until my pipe is 
smoked out." 

" I will promise you that," said the demon, 
and seating himself, he waited. Soon he 
cried, wrathfully : — 

" This is too much ! Here, give me the 
pipe, I will smoke it myself. By the name 
of my master, I will ! " 

The soldier obediently took the pipe from 
his mouth and handed it to the demon, who 
at once began to smoke, drawing in the 
smoke with all his strength and then letting 
it stream out through his great, hawked nose. 
Enormous columns of smoke poured forth 
from his nostrils and spread in dark clouds 
through the haU, but the pipe remained full 
of tobacco. 

Then through all the passages of the castle 
wild noises resounded, the doors flew open, 
and in streamed thousands of demons, who 
surrounded the soldier, screaming : — 

41 Whence came you hither ? What want 
you here ? " 

When they learned their colleague had 
promipBditorJqtrt^ his pipe 



was smoked out, and saw that this did not 
come to pass, each in turn took the pipe and 
puffed and smoked, until almost out of breath. 
Soon the smoke streamed forth from every 
door and window. The last demon thrust 
the pipe-stem into his mouth up to the centre, 

when they saw the pipe would never be 
smoked out, and said to the soldier : — 

" Give back the word our chief pledged 
you ; we will let you depart alive." 

" I shall remain alive without your gracious 
permissions" replied the soldier; "but if 

J*-* j^iua 



but all of no use, the tobacco burned slowly 
on 3 but never decreased. 

Meanwhile tumult arose in the capital as 
the clouds of smoke were seen issuing from 
the castle ; the fire-bells were rung, and the 
fire-hose brought out to extinguish the 
supposed fire, so that it might not destroy 
the town. The demons grew very uneasy 

you wish to have back the word, you must 
promise to quit this castle now and for 
ever ! " 

u That we cannot do ! " cried the demons. 
"Concealed in the subterranean vaults is a 
quantity of unrighteously-acquired treasure, 
stored up by the late King, who is therefore 

c °°lii^ Mmtof every ni8ln 



and visit these cellars, where we torment him. 
This we must continue to do until someone 
discovers the treasure and distributes it 
amongst the poor ! fl 

When the demons had finished speaking, 
the soldier opened his sack, and said : — - 

* 'Wonder, sack, open thctr ! 

Then in shall hie 
All whom I name to thee. 

Safe i he re lo lie. 

Demons, enter I " 

The next moment the soldier was alone in 
the hall, and the demons imprisoned in the 
sack were lamenting their cruel fate and 
entreating to be set at liberty. The soldier 
struck the sack against the wall, then he 
said :— 

*' I shall not let you out until you promise 
to bring all that 
accursed treasure 
into this hall, and 
then leave the 
castle for ever." 

we promise 

With a pin 
the soldier made 
a hole in the 

sack, and through this tiny opening forth 
shot a little demon like a stone from a sling. 
Quickly the soldier closed the aperture, and 
said to the demon, who bowed respectfully 
before him : — 

"Now go and do what I require; directly 
that is done I will release the others I " 

The little < lemon descended through a 
crack in the floor to the subterranean vaults, 
and ere the lapse of an hour half the hall 
was filled with gold and silver. The 
soldier then opened the sack, and a whole 
crowd of bats flew out moaning, and 
quickly disappeared through the open 

Our hero now lay down to sleep until 
morning, when he went to the King and told 

him all that had passed* 

us out, 

I it 

The gold promised 
him as reward he 
begged might be 
given to the 
poor ; he also 
declined the 
title of Duke, 
and set forth 
again to wander 
through the 

by Google 

Original from 


[ We shall be glad to receive Contributions to this section t and to pay for such as are accepted.} 

The accompanying photo, shows the head of a 
rabbit which was found dead near Stonehaven, in 
Scotland. Owing to the enormous overgrowth of the 
two lower incisor teeth, the unfortunate animal had 
evidently perished from sheer inability to nourish 
itself. This very interesting photograph was sent in 
by Dr. Wood, of Fraserburgh, Scotland, and it is 
extremely doubtful whether an exactly similar cause 
has ever before been recorded. 

This curious object forms the " widow's weeds ** of 
an Australian aborigine. It is the custom in one part 

of Australia, near the north-east bend of the Murray 
River , for widows lo attend upon the tombs of their 
dead husbands. Then,, 
after shaving their heads, 
they cover them with pipe- 
clay, kneaded into a paste. 
The head is first covered 
with a net, to prevent 
the clay from sticking too 
tightly to the skin — a 
misfortune which is partly 
averted by the amount of 
grease with which every 
Australian native is 
anointed, A layer of this 
clay, several inches in 
thicknesses plastered over 
the head, and, when dry, 
forms a sort of skull-cap 
exactly fitting the head on 
which it was moulded. As 
it weighs several pounds, 
the widow's cap cannot lie 
comfortable. These badges 
of mourning may be found 
lying about near the 
tumuli ; and, until their 
real use was discovered, 
they were very mysterious 
objects to travellers. 

KnuiJi a PKuto. bg ll r di*J». SCujutaiKA. 


Mr. F. R. Clapham, F*R*A*&, of Austwick Hall, 
Clapham, I ,an caster, writes : "This photo, shows 
a beautifully finished mouse's nest, which was found 
in a piano that had not been used for Mime time. 
The frame- work of the nest was made from the fringe 
of a large hesirth-rug, and upon this frame- work was 
laid some more fringe, teased out into wool. The 
whole was tastefully adorned with fronds of ferns 
that grew in the room. The inner lining was com- 
posed of part of a silver- print photo., nibbled into 
small particles, I had previously heard of portions 
of a mouse's nest being found, but never beard of one 
so elegantly finished and situated in such a queer 

2 3 S 



This quaint little figure was made by no less a 
personage than the famous Allien Smith, doctor > 
novel ist, dramatist, and popular entertainer — the lion 
of the * s forties. hN When Allx?rt Smith was giving his 
humorous entertainments at the Egyptian II all, this 
little Neptune " ruled the waves" of an ornamental 
fountain in the vestibule. The versatile man had 
made it in a few mi miles one night after a big 
lvi nquet, using only the corks, tinfoil, and wire from 
champagne bottles. Years after it was recognised in 
the shop of a miscellaneous dealer by Mr, Edward 
Draper, of 3, Vincent Square, Westminster and this 
gentleman bought it for a few pence, lie found, 
however, that the figure would not float, and then he 
remembered that Neptune formerly had beneath his 
left arm a tinfoil speaking -trumpet, which balanced 
the trident when the little god was in bjs proper 

/^rtpin a I'hnto. h]j /Jr. E. Merirn* rp (,**,,. ItcHin. 

The extraordinary story of this tombstone can be 
verified by any tourist who passes that way* 
Rome seventy years ago a gentleman was buried 
in the Maricnstrnssc Cemetery, Hanover. He 
had ordered a particularly massive tombstone, 
and accordingly, on a foundation of stone, 12m. 
thick, an immense block of stone was placed in 
position and then firmly fixed to the substruc- 
ture with iron bolts. To insure that this stronghold 
would never be disturbed) the following inscription 
(translated literally from the German) was chiselled 
in the stone : " This grave is bought for eternal lime 
{i.e., 'for ever *), and must never be opened.*' Man 
pi opuses, etc. The wind blew the seed of a birch tree into an unjointed crevice in the masonry, and soon 
a small tree began to grow. Later on the irrepressible force of Nature wrenched asunder the iron bolts gad 
lifted and displaced the stones. In short t the growing tree gradually wrecked the grave, which now presents a 
curious spectacle. Photo, sent in by Mr, B, rL Baumgarten, of " South leigh," Park Road, NorhHon. 


This interesting photo, 
illustrates the dangers and 
difficulties attending the 
work of those enthusiastic 
naturalists who photograph 
birds' nests in siiu. Here 
we see Mr. R, B. Lodge, of 
Enfield, in the very act of 
photographing a nightingale 
feeding her young. On 
these excursions Mr. Lodge 
wears wading troupers and 
boots, and is provided wilh 
a large green liag or hood 
with a hole for the face. 
This hood envelops the 
artist's head and the 
camera ; and by keeping 
perfectly motionless in mid- 
stream amazing results are 



In the seventies the Transvaal Republic was 
virtually bankrupt, and in order to meet the demands 
on the Treasury > paper money was issued. Specimens 
of this are now very rare. St* desperate was the 
state of the Exchequer in those days, that on one 
occasion change could not l>c given to an innocent Boer 


tfrijrtaat $ 

\w/] K 



who tendered a sovereign to pay 8s. worth of taxes ! 
If you bought t wo^ penny worth of stamps and tendered 
a three penny -piece* you received in e ^change , not an 
honest copper, but the bit of cardboard reproduced 
here, which informed you it was " goed voor ein 
penny/ 1 a doubtful statement, seeing that if you tried 
to change it you received a stamp for the amount. 
We are indebted for the loan of this interesting money 
order to Mr* M* Selim, of Sunnyside, St, Mary*s 
Grove, (jiinnersbiiry. 

This is a photograph of a crag shell* from the East 
Anglian Crag, and it has engraved upon it a rough 
representation of a human fact. There is also above 
the face a perforation, which seems to indicate that 
the shell was formerly strung on a string. It was 
found some years ago by an Intelligent old man, who 
kept it a long time and then parted with it to a 
scientific gentleman. The latter exhibited the shell 
before the British Association and several other 
scienlific bodies. There is, of course, no doubt as 
to the genuineness of the shell itself, but there are 
doubts as to whether the engraving is contemporary 
with it. Careful examination under the microscope, 
however, did not reveal any [races (if recent work* 
Therefore, assuming, as one may, that the engraving 
is altogether genuine, it is one of the earliest, if not 
ihi earliest artistic work of pre-historic man* We 
are indebted for the photo, to Mr. A, P. Wiie, 168. 
Hirfcheck Road, Leytonstnne. 

Here is a very interesting curi- 
osity reproduced from a photo, 
sent us by Mr. Alfred Hulme, 
timber merchant, of 17, Quay 
Street, Manchester. "The tree, 
says Mr. Hulme, "was about 
25ft. long. I had to cross-cut it 
into 19ft, lengths, the other lengths 
being 6ft. About half-way down 
one of these latter, there was a 
dark knot i^in. in diameter after 
slabbing. A 2 -inch plank was 
then taken off by ihe old process 
of hand pit -sawing, and the photo, 
shows the knot on the other 
side." The outlines of the bird 
are very clearly marked* 

It was grown and photographed by Mr. W. P. 
Marsh, photographer, of Bognor. The stem, close 
up to the large mass of bloom that formed at the top, 
was no less than 2}m. in width, and quite flat, 
tapering gradually down to the ^Itcm. There was 
nothing a bn or trial a I tout any uf the other flowers or 
stems on the same plant* 

/ 1 out 

niWEi*5rTf«mifrfne? i N 



This fa an illustration of the dangers that arc almost 
unconsciously faced every day by skilled workmen in various 
parts of I he country. The photo, was sent to us by Mr. 
K. A, Ellis, of Beech Hill, kersal, Manchester. Mr. Ellis 
tells us that the incident occurred on the Bury New Road, 
between Uury and Manchester, where some new telegraph - 
posts were l>eing erected. The man at the top remained 
poised in this way for quite a long time, habneing himself 
with one foot on the top of the post and the other on the 
ladder. This ladder appears to lie .40ft, or 50ft, high, and 
was quite unsupported. 




' ^^^^*t 

^£ Jm 



r J 





F 1 1 

M M 




W^^^^^*&* fy BA^k ^mgj^^^^^^k 



By far the greater prt of the unskilled 
labour in Malabar is done by girls, such as 
are represented in the accompanying photo- 
graph* They are also the farm labourers of 
the country, the rice cultivation* with the 
exception of the ploughing, lieing almost entirely carried on by the women. When not more than nine or 
ten years old these pretty, and often dainty* little girls begin to earn their own living by working on the roads, 
carrying bricks and mortar up ladders, and working up to their knees in water in the rice-fields. They are 
perfectly cheerful, however, laughing and chattering as merrily as possible the whole day long* They earn 
from one and a half to three annas per day* Fhotn. taken and forwarded by Mr. Chas. H. Payne, of Sefton 
Hall ( Chine Crescent, Bournemouth. 

We are indebted for this in- 
teresting photo, to Mr* A, Can- 
dler, of the Bank Slock Office, 
Bank of England, E.C It re- 
presents a cow in the act of 
devouring a canvas l>oal-cover, 
25ft. in length ! This incident 
look place on the banks of the 
Thames, whilst a boa ling* party 
were inside their tent. The cow 
was Iwaten off several times, but 
she returned again and again to 
her slTange meal, until at last 
almost the whole of the hoat- 
cover had disappeared. W f hen 
at length it was found impossible 
to save the article, photos, were 
taken of the extraordinaty in- 

f~ Original from 



ISee f>age 24S. ) 

Original from 

The Strand Magazine. 

Vol. xiv. 


No. 81 

The Tragedy of the Korosko. 

By A. Conan Doyle. 

HERE was nothing to show 
them as they journeyed on- 
wards that they were not on 
the very spot that they had 
passed at sunset upon the 
evening before. The fantastic 
black hills, the orange sand, had long been 
left behind, and everywhere now was the 
same brown, rolling, gravelly plain, the ground- 
swell with the shining rounded pebbles upon 
its surface, and the occasional little sprouts 
of sage-green camel-grass. Behind and before 
it extended, to where far away in front of 
them it sloped upwards towards a line of 
violet hills. The sun was not high enough yet 
to cause the tropical shimmer, and the wide 
landscape, brown with its violet edging, stood 
out with a hard clearness in that dry, pure air. 
The long caravan straggled along at the slow 
swing of the baggage-camels. Far out on the 
flanks rode the vedettes, halting at every rise, 
and peering backwards with their hands shad- 
ing their eyes. In the distance their spears 
and rifles seemed to stick out of them, straight 
and thin, like needles in knitting. 

" How far do you suppose we are from the 
Nile ? " asked Cochrane. He rode with his 
chin on his shoulder and his eyes straining 
to the eastern sky-line. 

" A good fifty miles," Belmont answered. 
" Too far for a rescue," said the Colonel. 
" I don't know that we are much the better 
for this postponement. What have we to hope 
for? We may just as well take our gruel" 

" Never say die ! " cried the cheery Irish- 
man. "There's plenty of time between this 
and mid-day. Hamilton and Hedley of the 
Camel Corps are good boys, and they'll be 
after us like a streak. Little did I think, 
when I dined with them at mess that last 
night, that I should depend upon them for 
our lives." 

Vol. xiv.-31 Copyright, 1897, by 

" Well, we'll play the game out, but I'm 
not very hopeful," said Cochrane. "Of course, 
we must keep the best face we can before the 
women. I see that Tippy Tilly is as good as 
his word, for those five niggers and the two 
brown Johnnies must be the men he speaks of. 
They all ride together and keep well up, but 
I can't see how they are going to help us." 

" I've got my pistol back," whispered 
Belmont, and his square chin and strong 
mouth set like granite. "If they try any 
games on the women, I mean to shoot them 
all three with my own hand, and then we'll 
die with our minds easy." 

" Good man ! " said Cochrane, and they 
rode on in silence. None of them spoke much. 
A curious, dreamy, irresponsible feeling crept 
over them. It was as if they had all taken 
some narcotic drug — the merciful anodyne 
which Nature uses when a great crisis has 
fretted the nerves too far. They thought of 
their friends and of their past lives in the com- 
prehensive way in which" one views that 
which is completed. A subtle sweetness 
mingled with the sadness of their fate. They 
were filled with the serenity of despair. 

"It's devilish pretty," said the Colonel, look- 
ing about him. " I always had an idea that I 
should like to die in a real, good, yellow London 
fog. You couldn't change for the worse." 

" It's the loneliness of death that is terrible," 
said Mrs. Belmont. "If we and those 
whom we loved all passed over simulta- 
neously, we should think no more of it than 
of changing our house." 

" If the worst comes to the worst, we won't 
be lonely," said her husband. "We'll all go 
together, and we shall find Brown and Head- 
ingly and Stuart waiting on the other side." 

The Frenchman shrugged his shoulders. 
He had no belief in survival after death, but 
he envied the two Catholics the quiet way in 
which they :ock things for granted. He 




chuckled to think of what his friends in the 
Caf£ Bignon would say if they learned that 
he had laid down his life for the Christian 
faith. Sometimes it amused and sometimes 
it maddened him, and he rode onwards with 
alternate gusts of laughter and of fury, 
nursing his wounded wrist all the time like a 
mother with a sick baby, 

Across the brown of the hard, pebbly 
desert there had been visible for some time a 
single long, thin, yellow streak. It was a band 
of sand not more than a few hundred yards 
across, and rising at the highest to eij;ht or ten 
feet. But the prisoners were astonished to 
observe that the Arabs pointed at this 
with an air of the utmost concern, 
and they halted when they came to 
the edge of it like men upon the brink 
of an unfordable river, It was very 
light, dusty sand s and every wander- 
ing breath of wind sent it dancing 

. . ii r i jpi 

t( What is it ? " asked Belmont, who found 
the dragoman riding at his elbow. 

" Drift sand," Mansoor answered, (i Every 
sometimes the wind bring it all in one long 
place like that. To-morrow, if a wind comes, 
perhaps there will not be one grain left, but 
all will be carried up into the air again. An 
Arab will sometimes have to go fifty or a 
hundred miles to go round a drift. Suppose 
he tries to cross, his. camel breaks its legs, 
and he himself is sucked in and swallowed," 

"How long will this be?" 

u No one can say." 

"Well, Cochrane, it's all in our favour. 


into the air like a whirl of midges. The Emir 
Abderrahman tried to force his camel into it, 
but the creature, after a step or two, stood 
still and shivered with terror. The two chiefs 
talked for a little, and then the whole caravan 
trailed off with their heads for the north, and 
the streak of sand upon their left. 

The longer the chase the better chance for 
the fresh camels ! " and for the hundredth 
time he looked hack at the long, hard sky- 
line behind them. There was the great, 
empty, dun - coloured desert* but where 

the glint of- 
h el m ejj f#V" EftM' 

aitfrtfiftT twinkle of white 



And soon they cleared the obstacle in their 
front. It spindled away into nothing, as a 
streak of dust would which has been blown 
across an empty room, It was curious to 
see that when it was so narrow that one 
could almost jump it, the Arabs would still 
go for many hundreds of yards rather than 
risk the crossing. Then, with good, hard 
country before them once more, the tired 
beasts were whipped up, and they ambled on 
with a double-jointed jog-trot, which set the 
prisoners nodding and bowing in ludicrous 
misery. It was fun at first, and they smiled 
at each other, but soon the fun had become 
tragedy as the terrible camel-ache seized 
them by spine and waist, with its deep, dull 
throb, which rises gradually to a splitting 

" I can't stand it, Sadie/' cried Miss 
Adams, suddenly. " I've done my best. I'm 
going to fall." 

11 No, no, auntie, you'll break your limbs if 
you do. Hold up, just a little, and maybe 
theyll stop." 

" Lean back, and hold your saddle 
behind," said the Colonel. "There, you'll 
find that will ease the strain." He took, the 
pugaree from his hat, and tying the ends 
together, he slung it over her front ppmmeL 
"Put your foot in the loop/' said he* "It 
will steady you like a stirrup," 

The relief was instant, so Stephens did the 
same for Sadie. But presently one of the 
weary doom camels came down with a crash, 
its limbs starred out as if it had split asunder, 
and the caravan had to come down to its old 
sober gait, 

"Is this another belt of drift sand ? " asked 
the Colonel, presently. 

"No, it's white," said Belmont "Here, 
Mansoo^ what is that in front of us ? n 

But the dragoman shook his head. 

" I don't know what it is, sir, I never saw 
the same thing before." 

Right across the desert, from north to south, 
there was drawn a white line, as straight and 
clear as if it had been slashed with chalk 
aeross a brown table, It was very thin, but 
it extended without a break from horizon to 
horizon. Tippy Tilly said something to the 

"It's the great caravan route, 1 * said 
Man soon 

" What makes it white, then?" 

"The bones," 

It seemed incredible, and yet it was true, 
for as they drew nearer they saw that it was 
indeed a beaten track across the desert, 
hollowed out by long usage, and so covered 
with bones that they gave the impression of a 
continuous white ribbon* Long, snouty heads 
were scattered everywhere, and the lines of ribs 





were so continuous that it looked in places 
like the framework of a monstrous serpent 
The endless road gleamed in the sun as if it 
were paved with ivory. For thousands of 
years this had been the highway over the 
desert, and during all that time no animal of 
all those countless caravans had died there 
without being preserved by the dry, anti- 
septic air. No wonder, then, that it was 
hardly possible to walk down it now without 
treading upon their skeletons. 

** This must be the route I spoke of," said 
Stephens. " I remember marking it upon the 
map I made for you, Miss Adams. Baedeker 
says that it has been disused on account of the 
Dervishes, but that it used to be the main 
road by which the skins and gums of Darfur 
found their way down to Lower Egypt." 

They looked at it with a listless curiosity, 
for there was enough to engross them at 

dragged on together towards their miserable 

And now, as the critical moment ap- 
proached which was to decide their fate, 
Colonel Cochrane, weighed down by his fears 
lest something terrible should befall the 
women, put his pride aside to the extent of 
asking the advice of the renegade dragoman. 
The fellow was a villain and a coward, but at 
least he was an Oriental, and he understood 
the Arab point of view. His change of 
religion had brought him into closer contact 
with the Dervishes, and he had overheard 
their intimate talk, Cochraue's stiff, aristo- 
cratic nature fought hard before he could 
bring himself to ask advice from such a 
man, and when he at last did so, it was in the 
gruffest and most unconciliatory voice. 

" You know the rascals, and you have the 
same way of looking at things/' said he. 



present in their own fates* The caravan 
struck to the south along the old desert track, 
and this Golgotha of a road seemed to be a 
fitting avenue for that which awaited them at 
the end of it Weary camels and weary riders 

"Our object is to keep things going for 
another twenty-four hours. After that it does 
not much matter what befalls us, for we shall 
be out of the reach of rescue. But how can 
we stave thQwgiiffirtfflWOTher day?' 1 




"You know my advice," the dragoman 
answered ; " I have already answered it to 
you. If you will all become as I have, you 
will certainly be carried to Khartoum alive." 

The Colonel's well-curved nose took a 
higher tilt, and an angry flush reddened his 
thin cheeks. He rode in silence for a little, 
for his Indian service had left him with a 
curried-prawn temper, which had had an 
extra touch of cayenne added to it by his 
recent experiences. It was some minutes 
before he could trust himself to reply. 

" We'll set that aside," said he, at last. 
" Some things are possible and some are not. 
This is not." 

" You need only pretend." 

" That's enough," said the Colonel, 

Mansoor shrugged his shoulders. 

"What is the use of asking me, if you 
become angry whea I answer? If you do 
not wish to do what 1 say, then try your own 

"I'm not angry," the Colonel answered, 
in a more conciliatory voice, "but this is 
climbing down rather farther than we care to 
go. Now, what I thought is this. You might, 
if you chose, give this priest, or Moolah, 
who is coming to us a hint that we really are 
softening a bit upon the point. I don't 
think, considering the hole that we are in, 
that there can be very much objection to 
that Then, when he comes, we might play 
up and take an interest and #sk for more 
instruction, and in that way hold the matter 
over for a day or two. Don't you think that 
would be the best game ? " 

" You will do as you like," said Mansoor. 
" If you wish that I speak to the Moolah, I 
will do so. It is the fat, little man with the 
grey beard upon the brown camel in front 
there. He has a name among them for 
converting the infidel, and he has a great 
pride in it, so that he would certainly prefer 
that you were not injured if he thought that 
he might bring you into Islam." 

" Tell him that our minds are open, then," 
said the Colonel. "I don't suppose the 
padre would have gone so far, but now that 
he is dead I think we may stretch a point. 
You go to him, Mansoor, and if you work it 
well we will agree to forget what is past. By 
the way, has Tippy Tilly said anything ? " 

"No, sir. He has kept his men together, 
but he does not understand yet how he can 
help you." 

" Neither do I. Well, you go to the Moolah, 
and I'll tell these other fellows what we have 

The prisoners all acquiesced in the Colonel's 
plan with the exception of the old New 
England lady, who absolutely refused even to 
show any interest in the Mohammedan creed. 
" I guess I am too old to bow the knee to 
Baal," she said. The most that she would 
concede was that she would not openly 
interfere with anything which her companions 
might say or do. 

" And who is to argue with the priest ? " 
asked Fardet, as they all rode together, 
talking the matter over. 

" I think Cochrane should, as the proposal 
is his," said Belmont. 

" Pardon me ! " said the Frenchman. " I 
will not say a word against our friend the 
Colonel, but it is not possible that a man 
should be fitted for everything. The priest 
will see through the Colonel." 

" Will he ? " said the Colonel, with dignity. 

"Yes, my friend, he will, for, like most 
of your countrymen, you are very wanting in 
sympathy for the ideas of other people, and 
it is the great fault which I find with you as 
a nation." 

" Oh, drop the politics ! " cried Belmont, 

" I do not talk politics. What I say is 
very practical. How can Colonel Cochrane 
pretend to this priest that he is really 
interested in his religion when, in effect, there 
is no religion in the world to him outside 
some little church in which he has been born 
and bred ? I will say this for the Colonel, 
that I do not believe he is at all a hypocrite, 
and I am sure that he could not act well 
enough to deceive such a man as this priest" 

The Colonel sat with a very stiff back and 
the blank face of a man who is not quite 
sure whether he is being complimented or 

"You can do the talking yourself if you 
like," said he, at last. 

" I think that I am best fitted for it, since 
I am equally interested in all creeds. When 
I ask for information, it is because in verity I 
desire it, and not because I am playing a 

" I certainly think that it would be much 
better if Monsieur Fardet would undertake 
it," said Mrs. Belmont, with decision, and so 
the matter was arranged. 

The sun was now high, and it shone with 
dazzling brightness upon the bleached bones 
which lay upon the road. Again the torture 
of thirst fell upon the little group of sur- 
vivors, and again, as they rode with withered 
tongues and crusted lips, a vision of the 

sa,00 ft^fei fftfl^itai Uke a mirage 



before their eyes, and they saw the white 
napery, the wine -cards by the places, the 
long necks of the bottles, the siphons upon 
the sideboard. Sadie, who had borne up 
so well, became suddenly hysterical, and 
her shrieks of senseless laughter jarred 
horribly upon their nerves. Her aunt on 
one side of her and Mr. Stephens on the 
other did all they could to soothe her, and at 
last the weary, over-strung girl relapsed into 
something between a sleep and a faint, hang- 
ing limp over her pommel, and only kept 
from falling by the friends who clustered 
round her. The baggage-camels were as weary 
as their riders, and again and again they had 
to jerk at their nose-ropes to prevent them 
from lying down. From horizon to horizon 
stretched that one huge arch of speckless 
blue, and up its monstrous concavity crept 
the inexorable sun, like some splendid but 
barbarous deity, who claimed a tribute of 
human suffering as his immemorial right. 

Their cowrse still lay along the old trade 
route, but their progress was very slow, and 
more than once the two Emirs rode back 
together and shook their heads as they looked 
at the weary baggage-camels on which the 
prisoners were perched. The greatest lag- 
gard of all was one which was ridden by a 
wounded Soudanese soldier. It was limping 
badly with a strained tendon, and it was only 
by constant prodding that it could be kept 
with the others. The Emir Wad Ibrahim 
raised his Remington, as the creature hobbled 
past, and sent a bullet through its brain. 
The wounded man flew forwards and fell 
heavily upon the hard track. His com- 
panions in misfortune, looking back, saw him 
stagger to his feet with a dazed face. At the 
same instant a Baggara slipped down from 
his camel with a sword in his hand. 

" Don't look ! Don't look ! " cried Belmont 
to the ladies, and they all rode on with their 
faces to the south. They heard no sound, 
but the Baggara passed them a few minutes 
afterwards. He was cleaning his sword upon 
the hairy neck of his camel, and he glanced 
at them with a quick, malicious gleam of his 
teeth as he trotted by. But those who are 
at the lowest pitch of human misery are at 
least secured against the future. That 
vicious, threatening smile which might once 
have thrilled them left them now unmoved 
— or stirred them at most to vague resent- 

There were many things to interest them in 
this old trade route, had they been in a con- 
dition to take notice of them. Here and 
there along its course were the crumbling 

remains of ancient buildings, so old that no 
date could be assigned to them, but designed 
in some far-off civilization to give the 
travellers shade from the sun or protection 
from the ever-lawless children of the desert. 
The mud bricks with which these refuges 
were constructed showed that the material 
had been carried over from the distant Nile. 
Once, upon the top of a little knoll, they saw 
the shattered plinth of a pillar of red Assouan 
granite, with the wide-winged symbol of the 
Egyptian god across it, and the cartouche of the 
second Rameses beneath. After 3,000 years 
one cannot get away from the ineffaceable 
footprints of the warrior-king. It is surely 
the most wonderful survival of history that 
one should still be able to gaze upon him, 
high nosed and masterful, as he lies with his 
powerful arms crossed upon his chest, 
majestic even in decay, in the Gizeh Museum. 
To the captives, the cartouche was a message 
of hope, as a sign that they were not outside 
the sphere of Egypt. "They've left their 
card here once, and they may again," said 
Belmont, and they all tried to smile. 

And now they came upon one of the most 
satisfying sights on which the human eye 
can ever rest. Here and there, in the 
depressions at either side of the road, there 
had been a thin scurf of green, which meant 
that water was not very far from the 
surface. And then, quite suddenly, the track 
dipped down into a bowl -shaped hollow, 
with a most dainty group of palm trees, and 
a lovely green sward at the bottom of it. 
The sun gleaming upon that brilliant patch 
of clear, restful colour, with the dark glow of 
the bare desert around it, made it shine like 
the purest emerald in a setting of burnished 
copper. And then it was not its beauty only, 
but its promise for the future : water, shade, 
all that weary travellers could ask for. Even 
Sadie was revived by the cheery sight, and 
the spent camels snorted and stepped out 
more briskly, stretching their long necks and 
sniffing the air as they went. After the 
unhomely harshness of the desert, it seemed 
to all of them that they had never seen 
anything more beautiful than this. They 
looked below at the green sward with the 
dark, star-like shadows of the palm-crowns, 
and then they looked up at those deep 
green leaves against the rich blue of the 
sky, and they forgot their impending death 
in the beauty of that Nature to whose bosom 
they were about to return. 

The wells in the centre of the grove 
consisted affiridp^n b.-ge and two small, 

sauced ER?#?" f*W H#!MP eat - coloured 



water, enough to form a plentiful supply for 
any caravan. Camels and men drank it 
greedily, though it was tainted by the 
all-pervading natron. The camels were 
picketed, the Arabs threw their sleeping- 
mats down in the shade, and the prisoners, 
after receiving a ration of dates and of 
doora, were told that they might do 
what they would during the heat of the 
day, and that the Moolah would come 
to them before sunset. The ladies were 
given the thicker shade of an acacia tree, 
and the men lay down under the palms. The 
great green leaves swished slowly above them ; 
they beard the low hum of the Arab talk, 

and the dull champing of the camels, and 
then in an instant, by that most mysterious 
and least understood of miracles, one was in 
a green Irish valley, and another saw the 
long, straight line of Commonwealth Avenue, 
and a third was dining at a little round table 
opposite to the bust of Nelson in the Army 
and Navy Club, and for him the swishing of 
the palm branches had been transformed into 
the long-drawn hum of Pall Mall. So the 
spirits went their several ways, wandering 
back along strange, untraced tracks of the 
memory, while the weary, grimy bodies lay 
senseless under the palm trees in the Oasis 
of the Libyan Desert. 

Vol. *iv. -ae 

Original from 
(To he «*A*«0|ft HST Y OF MICHIGAN 

Longfellow With His Children* 

By Miss Alice Longfellow, 

Y father came to Cambridge to 
live in 1837. He was then 
thirty years old, and had 
received his appointment as 
Professor at Harvard College 
only a short time before* He 
had completed his preparation for this 
position by a year and a half in Europe, 
where he had studied foreign languages and 
literature, and had freely drunk of all the 
beauty, romance, and poetry of the past. 

The delicacy and purity of his thought was 
manifested in all his habits of life, his 
surroundings, his personal appearance. There 
seemed to be no contradictions in his nature, 
but a complete unity of development There 
was a sense of con- 
stant activity and pre- 
paration in his manner 
and bearing, although 
he was really deliber- 
ate and careful in 
both judgment and 
action. His step was 
light and elastic, and 
his carriage perfectly 
erect, even when an 
old man, The fair 
complexion and deep 
blue eye lost none 
of their delicacy and 
colour as age ad- 

An old lady told 
me she remembered 
meeting him at a tea- 
party at Brunswick 
during his professor- 
ship in Bowdoin 
College. After his 
departure, she said : 
" Why did Professor 
Longfellow wear 
white kid gloves all 
the evening? " The other guests were much 
amused, and explained it was only the natural 
whiteness of his skin* 

My father's habits of life were very simple 
and regular. Indeed, order and regularity 
were essential to him in every way, and any- 
thing like hurry and confusion most dis- 
tasteful. Everything he touched fell into 
order at once, and he lived in an atmosphere 
of serenity that was felt by all who approached 
him. This certainly was true of him in 

Digitized by G* 


From b Phnto, 

middle life, however much he may have felt 
the pressure of restlessness and impatience 
in his youth. 

He was punctilious and careful about his 
dress, never appearing at home in anything 
that was at all untidy or unattractive, nor 
would he allow this in his family, He was 
fond of elegance, and very observant and 
appreciative of the dress and appearance of 
all women. In his youth, when men also 
indulged in bright colours, he was very fond 
of gay waistcoats, and a jaunty hat and cane. 
He liked to rise early, and for many years 
took a long walk every day before breakfast. 
I^ater the walk came after breakfast, and for 
some reason my earliest recollections seem 

to centre about this 
daily morning walk 
to the post-office, 
stopping at a book 
store in Harvard 
Square, where all the 
newspapers spread 
out on large stands 
were read and dis- 
cussed, and friends 
met for pleasant 
morning chat ; and 
then continuing on to 
the college. 

When my father's 
life at Harvard College 
began, Cambridge was 
a small village, with 
an '* hourly" stage 
running to Boston, 
The professors in the 
college were like a 
circle of friends, and 
the students compara- 
tively few in number 
There was time for 
much pleasant social 
intercourse, as well as 
work, and my father instinctively gathered a 
congenial circle about him. 

The old Colonial House on Brattle Street, 
known as " Washington's Headquarters " or 
the £< Craigie House,'' had immediately 
attracted and fascinated my father, with his 
love of the antique and picturesque. The 
historical interest was also very great 

The house was built in 1759 by Colonel 
Vassal, a rich Tory, who was forced to fly to 
the provinces at -the. beginning of the revolu- 



h v KtiiMt <t Fry. 



tion. The property was confiscated by the 
Continental Government, and after being 
used for a short time for troops, was placed 
at the disposal of General Washington, when 
he was called to take command of the 
American Army in July, 1775. One of the 
first items in General Washington's carefully- 
kept accounts is the amount paid for cleaning 

/i-urn a] 


the house after its occupation by a Marble- 
head regiment. 

When my father first saw the house it was 
occupied by the Widow Craigie, a handsome 
and eccentric old lady, whose husband, 
Andrew Craigie, had bought the house and 
estate, which then covered about 150 acres, 
at the close of the war. Lavish expenditure 
and speculation had brought him to bank- 
ruptcy. After his death, Mrs. Craigie still 
clung to her grand home, but was forced to 
share it with others. 

These various human histories gave the 
house a great interest in my father's eyes, in 
addition to its being a fine specimen of 
Colonial architecture, and a connecting link 
with pre-revolutionary days, Mrs, Craigie 
decidedly objected at first to the youthful 
appearance of the applicant for her rooms ; 
but, finding that he was a professor and not 
a student, she relented, and he was soon 
installed in two large rooms upstairs. Here 
he lived for six years, busy with his college 
work, the spare hours given to poetry and 
friendly gatherings. 

His desk stood by a window facing the 
south, and overlooking the Charles River and 
wide green fields, Beyond the river was a 

stretch of marsh land, often converted into a 
lake by flooding tides, and in winter glittering 
with ice, reflecting the glowing sunset These 
pictures, constantly before his eyes, often 
recur in his earlier poems, written during 
these years. 

After his marriage in 1843, my father 
obtained possession of the whole house, 

gradually furnish- 
ing one room at 
a time. When the 
children were 
bom, the sunny 
study upstairs was 
given up for a nur- 
sery, and the desk 
and books trans- 
ferred to the room 
directly below, so 
that the familiar 
outlook might not 
be changed. The 
seclusion of the 
room upstairs was 
thus lost, and the 
children became 
double gainers, for 
the new study was 
mercilessly in- 
vaded by them at 
all hours, and 
everything about the room seemed to have 
a special charm, invested as it was with the 
atmosphere of repose, serenity, and kindliness. 
In a corner stood an old clock, its steady 
ticking a soothing accompaniment to many 
an hour of delightful reading or dreaming ; 
and over the fire-place an old-fashioned 
convex mirror reflected the room in minia- 
ture, an enchanting abode, with always the 
vague hope to a childish mind that some day 
one might find the way to enter in and take 

In a drawer of one of the bookcases was 
a collection of little pictures drawn by my 
father in pencil, which he used with great 
facility, M The Wonderful Adventures of Mr. 
Peter Piper." These were a constant source 
of delight, as new adventures would suddenly 
appear from time to time, and we never knew 
what the wonderful Peter Piper would do 
next. He went travelling, with adventures 
in foreign lands ; he went hunting, and fell 
from his horse : he went to sea, and was 
chased by a shark, and rode on a whale, and 
went down in a diving - bell^ and all the 
possibilities of life were before him. 

In another .bookcase were delightful books 
of Germirrl'iiftls^iK 1 captivating pictures, 

[ Ph&kimiph, 



and a tiny little book of negro melodies, and 
the marvellous Jim Crow. One draper was 
especially dedicated to small cakes of 
chocolate for eases of extreme need, and 
rarely did the supply fail, although no other 
kind of sweetmeat was encouraged. 

One corner of the study was usurped for 
marbles, as the pattern of the carpet seemed 
arranged on purpose for the game. How all 
this was endured is hard to understand, but 
I am sure it was not only my father's patience 
that permitted these interruptions, but a true 
insight into, and sympathy with, all phases 
of children's life. 

His presence was a constant attraction, 
and our first move in the morning was to his 
dressing-room, where the neatly arranged 
drawers and shelves and orderly toilet articles 
were looked at with envy and delight, con- 
trasted with the turmoil of the nursery, 
where he was always a welcome and restful 
visitor Taking a fretful and tired child in 
his arms, he would walk up and down 
quickly, singing some little rhyme, and peace 
and happiness were soon restored. 

His inventive genius was constantly in 
demand. In addition to drawings and 

JV. - ■-■ i .;ri 


valentines, there were wooden moulds of 
various shapes, in which figures were made 
with melted lead, There were scales made 
from orange-peel, with string and a bit of 
wood, much needed by amateur shop-keepers. 
There was also a plentiful supply of money, 
both silver and paper. The silver money, 

the West being still undeveloped, was made 
by rubbing bits of tinfoil over coins; and 
the paper money came from the covering of 
old-fashioned matches with a picture of Mr 
E. Byam, and the following inscription, which 
constituted it legal tender : — 

Fur quickness and sureness 

The public will find 
These matches will leave 

All ol hers behind. 

Without further re in si rk 

Wc invite you In try 'em ; 
And re me miser all good 

That are signed by E, Byam* 

A much -valued member of the very youth- 
ful household was a gay little fellow, called 
little " Merrythought Jt He was a wishing- 
bone, with head and feet made of sealing- 
wax, so that he could stand alone, dressed 
in a cape of red flannel, with a feather in his 
cap— quite a hero of romance. 

There was in ours, as in most families, a 
succession of pets : dogs, rabbits, hens, and 
turtles in a tub in the garden. A Scotch 
terrier, named " Trap," was a most important 
member of the family for twelve years, a 
constant companion of my father in every 

walk and expedi- 
tion by land or 
sea, and celebrated 
for his fine man- 
ners. My father 
writes of him : — 

"The last and 
greatest of all the 
dogs was 4 Trap f ; 
Trap, the Scotch 
terrier ; Trap, the 
polite, the elegant, 
sometimes -on 
account of his de- 
portment — called 
Turveydrop, some- 
times Louis XIV .* 
This dog's de- 
votion to my eldest 
brother was so 
great that, when 
he started to cross 
the ocean in a 
.small yacht, Trap, 
although sick and 
frightened on the water, stowed himself 
secretly away in the cabin* After two days 
a returning fisherman brought him ignomini- 
ously home, with a card tied to his collar, and 
looking utterly dejected and woebegone. 
The summers jwer&ahvavs passed at the 

seasi %^fiWMiMAr n,y for the 

| I'fuit'tyrajih, 



/■'jv,HL a) 

children's sake, and 
he must have 
passed many dull 
hours exiled from 
his large, comfort- 
able library and his 
books. He used 
to row patiently 
with the little girls, 
as the boys soon 
grew beyond his 
gentle manner of 
handling an oar. 
There was also an 
occasional picnic 
of an adventurous 
nature, nearly a 
mile from home, 
with all the flavour 
and excitement of 
foreign travel. 

Very seldom 
could my father be 
persuaded to join 
in any of the sail- 
ing expeditions, and 
then only for a very 
short time. He was 
always well and active, but never cared for 
any great amount of exercise, and was 
quickly satisfied, and very moderate in what- 
ever he was doing, often a disappointment to 
the insatiable desires of youth. 

In truth, my father was very reserved with 
his children, in spite of his sympathy and 
understanding. He preferred to instil certain 
fundamental principles by habit and the 
example of his own life, and then leave them 
free to shape their own course. He believed 
entirely in self-reliance, and in any uncertainty 
always said, u You must decide that for your- 

He very rarely made any requests ; and 
his own preferences must often have been 

He felt more at home, I think, with little 
children than with growing youths and girls, 
where a certain extreme delicacy of reserve 
interfered ; but with the youngest he made 
friends at once. 

All through my father's daily journal, 
which he kept for many years, was an under- 
tone of the children's life— a walk to Fresh 
Pond, a shopping expedition to Boston, an 
afternoon building a snow-house, and a note 
of keen distress at any misfortune. The 
children were constantly in his thoughts. 
He says any illness or accident entirely 

Digitized by dOOg It 



upset him, and seemed more than he could 

He never endured any sarcastic word to a 
child, especially from a teacher, and con- 
sidered it most dangerous and blighting to 
any originality or imagination. Sympathy 
first, and then criticism when needed, but a 
criticism that cleared away difficulties and 
showed the right path ; never a criticism that 
left merely discouragement and bewilderment 

To show how fully he understood the 
constant forbearance and encouragement 
needed by children, I will quote, in closing, 
from a little record he kept of the early life 
of his own family* 

Speaking of some childish quarrel, he says: 
14 What was the matter, the cause of this 
despair ? A trifle, a nothing* At last the 
little fellow said, amid sobs c I will be good. 
Help me to be good, papa ! * Ah, yes, help 
him to be good ! That is what children most 
need. Not so much chiding and lecturing, 
but a little more sympathy, a little help to be 
good. You can see through their trans- 
parent faces the struggle that is going on 
within, A soft, gentle word often decides 
the victory, The children were reconciled 
in a few minutes. How quick it was all over 
— that S r p^rfjff Jpfroi-nAh, me." 


Touch and Go. 

By Owen Hall. 

EA. Nothing but sea !" This 
was my first thought, as I 
half raised myself, and cast 
my eyes over the horizon. 
The sun hadn't risen yet, 
but far and wide over the 
eastern sky the signs of his rising were abroad. 
Long shafts of gold, springing, as it seemed, 
from behind the ocean, struck upwards across 
the rosy-tinted sky like the glittering spikes 
of some gigantic crown, or the rays of some 
celestial halo. To the westward the heavens 
were dyed with graduated tints of rose-pink, 
green, and yellow, till, as it approached the 
sea-line, it sank to a faint greenish-grey where 
it met the water. On every side it was clear. 
The sea was calm. Hardly more than the 
faintest ripple caught and reflected back the 
colours of the brightening dawn. Our boat 
— it was a whale-boat — floated lazily, with a 
gentle swaying motion, on the long and 
scarcely perceptible heave of the ocean. 
There was not a cloud in the sky, not a wave 
on the sea to obscure my view ; and far and 
wide, as I strained my eyes to gaze, it was 
sea — nothing but sea. 

Many days before we had abandoned our 
ship— the Jabez Skinner \ of New Bedford — 
stuck fast on a coral reef. There had been 
sixteen of us in the boat &t first ; now, all 
but one had died in the agonies of thirst. 
I was the last one left alive — and I felt that 
I was dying. 

The blinding sun streamed into my dazzled 
eyes, and I had not the strength to shade 
them with my hand nor the energy to seek 
a new position. Fancies began to crowd 
upon me. The dead men in the boat seemed 
to rise and stare at me ; the mate seemed to 
get up and give orders. I was dimly 
conscious that I was losing my senses. Now 
and then I came to myself enough to know 
that I had been wandering, and to wonder 
vaguely at the strange delusions I had 
experienced. Then I slipped back again 
into the land of shadows. The sun sank low 
in the western sky. I could feel that it was 
so, though I had no longer the curiosity to 

open my eyes to see. When I did look, my 
dim vision took in the mast and sail in front 
of me and the glowing patch of tropical sun- 
set sky beyond, but my dimmer intelligence 
failed to connect them with myself. 

It must have been nearly sunset when I 
became for a few minutes conscious of where 
I was, for the question came into my mind, 
" How long will it last?" Would I survive 
the night to suffer the agony of another day, 
or would the morning sun shine on me as 
one of the bodies I was conscious of with 
such horror? I tried to look around with 
a sort of dumb farewell to earth, when 
I felt the boat strike with a slight shock 
against something, and then with a heave 
pass over it. Was it a fish, or could it 
have been a rock ? For the moment it seemed 
to bring me back to myself. I tried to gather 
my legs under me to raise myself, but the 
effort was beyond me. I tried to grasp the 
gunwale of the boat, but it was beyond my 
reach as I lay. I looked straight before me 
— stupidly, helplessly, despairingly. As I 
looked, something came between me and the 
sky ; as I stared at it stupidly, it took the 
shape of leaves and the colour of green — it 
was a palm-tree. The next moment, with a 
rush and a heave, the boat took the beach. 
As she heeled over on one side I heard a 
guttural exclamation — as my eyes came in 
sight of the shore, they met the wondering 
gaze of a black man perfectly naked. 

I can remember no more. Whether it 
was the sudden' shock of my rescue from 
death by inches on the ocean, or the sight of 
that savage face which greeted my landing, 
that snatched away what was left of my 
tottering reason, I cannot say ; but so much is 
certain, that the sight of that dark, fierce 
face staring me a ghastly welcome is the last 
picture I can recover from my memories of 
that voyage. The white beach, sloping 
upwards to a grove of palm-trees swaying 
gently to the evening breeze; the stranded 
boat, its sail flapping idly against the mast ; 
the boat itself, with its ghastly caigo of dead 
sailors ; the woolly head of the black savage 

by K: 



j 1 1 1 .* 1 1 1 





with the half-stupid, half-ferocious grin of 
welcome in his bloodshot eyes and around 
his parted lips— all these I can see before me 
now, but they are the last pictures I can 
recall. Beyond this all is dark — I must 
have lost consciousness. 

I came to myself. The process was slow 
and very painful, but at last I was able to 
look around me, I was in a hut of some 
kind. I could make out as much as this, 
although the light was dim, and seemed to 
come chiefly along the roof as if reflected 
from a fire. As I lay I could see this roof 
plainly. It was formed of some kind of 
grass or fibre plaited or woven into a 
strange and beautiful pattern. Between 
me and this roof the head of a large 
and very hideous fish intervened, I could 
see his great eyes look down at me, 
and I thought they sparkled with a wicked 
light A little farther on there was a man's 
head, with eyes that to my fancy had just 
the same evil look of hungry exultation as 
those of the fish. Then there came a row of 
what looked like human heads hanging by 
the hair, with no bodies, but with dim, dead 

eyes, that gave back no 
answering sparkle to the 
firelight. I stared fixedly 
at them, expecting them 
to melt away like the 
dreams 1 had had in 
the boat ; but these 
didn't change, only I 
gradually became con- 
scious that the head of 
the fish, and also that 
of the man with the 
glaring eyes, were only 
carved images that hung 
from the roof of the 
hut, What the other 
heads could be I failed 
to make out I lay still 
and wondered faintly 
where I was and what 
had happened, and 
gradually the past came 
back, and the whale- 
boat with its ghastly 
crew seemed to rise 
before me once more* 
With a shuddering groan 
and tried to turn over. A hand 
softly on my shoulder, and a 
of water was put silently to my 
I drank it greedily. The hand that 
the shell was small and darL It was 
the hand of a woman or girl, and its gentle 
touch spoke of friendliness. I made an 
effort to turn my head to see the face that 
belonged to the hands, but found that I had 
not the strength. Again the hand was laid 
on my shoulder, and the touch was soothing, 
I gave up the effort to move — I let myself 
lie still and passive in the hands of my 
unknown friend. In a few moments I lost 
consciousness once more, 

I have no idea how long I slept, but when 
next I awoke it was dark. There was no 
sign of daylight now — only a fitful flashing 
light on the roof overhead, like that from a 
fire of wood — and I could hear the sound of 
voices. I felt stronger now, and again I tried 
to move. Once more a soft hand was laid 
on my shoulder; again the same small hand 
held the shell to my lips, and I drank once 
more. The shell was withdrawn, and a 
smaller one put in its place. It contained a 
substance like thickened milk with a flavour 
of cocoa-nut. I took a mouthful, and after 
a little effort I managed to swallow it, 
although my throat seemed strangely stiff 
and narrow. Again and again my nurse 
patiently C^t^PRifleftoAe shell to my lips, 




until I would eat no more. It had done me 
good, and already I felt better, but I lay 
still* The last thing I saw was the red 
flickering light from the invisible fire shining 
on the hungry eyes of the man and the fish 
over my head, and playing on the heads with 
the dull eyes that gave back no answering 
glance. The last thing I heard was the 
sound of low, distant voices in the hut, that 
came to my ears mysterious and menacing, 
The latest thing I felt was the touch of a 
small, dark hand, which fell upon my shoulder 
lightly like the touch of a hand in a dream, 

After that I gradually grew stronger. 
Slowly indeed at first, but afterwards more 
rapidly, as youth and strength recovered 
from the shock they had received. I found 
as soon as I gathered strength to sit up and 
look about me that my patient nurse was a 
native girl of it might be fourteen years of 
age ; a small and slender girl, with long, silky, 
black hair, well-formed features, and large, 
soft, dark eyes. She was the daughter of 
the chief in whose hut I had been lodged 
ever since I landed on the island. Matua, 
I learned, was her name, and she was my 
constant companion even after I had 
ceased to need a nurse. Day after day, 
as I slowly regained my strength, Matua 
was my only comrade. It was she who 
brought me food and drink ; she who 
day by day brought fresh ferns and creep- 
ing plants to form my bed, and spread 
mats over them on which I might lie in 
comfort- As I grew stronger she would 
sit with me under the cool, deep shade 
cast by the broad-leaved bread-fruit trees 
that shaded the ap- 
proach to the great hut, 
and tried to teach me 
the native names of 
things around us. Ex- 
cepting for Matua's 
company, indeed, I was 
very much alone, al- 
though I could see that 
I was by no means un- 
observed. Whenever I 
came out of the hut, 
I could see the faces 
of one or two native 
boys watching me from 
among the trees ; when 
I sat in the shade with 
Matua, the sound of 
would come softly to 
thicket of green behind 
a few yards towards 
sure to catch sight of a 

to warn me back with a threatening motion 
of his long spear. It was evident that I was 
a prisoner — well-treated, indeed, and even 
indulged, but a guarded prisoner still. 

While I lay sick and weak, Matua had fed 
me like a child ; and as I yew stronger she 
still plied me with every dainty which her 
island larder could supply* Roasted yams, 
boiled taro, bread-fruit fresh, bread fruit 
smoke - dried to the consistency of ship 
biscuit, bananas, pine-apples, and, above 
all, cocoa-nuts, formed a variety that might 
have satisfied the soul of a hungry 
vegetarian. Gradually I noticed a change. 
The girl, I could see, watched me closely, 
and sometimes when I was eating I 
could see her great dark eyes fixed on 
me with a strange expression of increasing 
interest, and, curiously enough, it was only 
when I was eating that I was ever favoured 
with any company but her own. Then* 


a stealthy footstep 
my ear from the 
us. If I wandered 
the beach, I was 
naked savage ready 

indeed, one or two savage- looking natives 
would sometimes saunter up and look at me 
with a good deal of interest. Sometimes 
the chief, A^tj^^ftljtjigij^-a repulsive-looking 

oM ^fflMh"!WldHteSN conceived an 



instinctive aversion — would come and squat 
opposite me, as if anxious to study the 
white man's way of eating, and then with a 
grave nod rise and stalk away when I had 

Day by day these attentions grew more and 
more irksome to me, but there was no way 
of escape from them. Instead of familiarity 
making me less interesting to these people, 
it seemed to me that I became an object of 
increasing attention day after day. I began 
also to notice another thing for which I was 
at a complete loss to account Matua had 
long ceased coaxing me to eat, as she had 
done when she was nurse and I her patient ; 
but now I fancied she was growing careless 
about my food. First the bananas grew 
scarce, and those supplied were poor and 
unripe. Then the fresh bread-fruit grew rare, 
and only the dried fruit was produced. To 
my surprise, the old chief noticed this 
one day, and angrily sent Matua for ripe 
bananas and bread-fruit. After that they 
were always there, but somehow the expres- 
sion of Matua's face always looked like an 
entreaty that I wouldn't eat them. 

What could it mean ? Day by day it 
puzzled me more, and I grew less and less 
contented with my position and prospects. 
I knew that all these islands are visited at 
intervals by British men-of-war, and I had 
expected that sooner or later I should be 
picked up either by one of these or a whaler 
or trading vessel calling at the island. Now 
I began to have unpleasant doubts whether 
the natives meant to let me go. If they 
were willing to do so, why was I guarded so 
jealously ? Why all this interest in me, 
which appeared to increase day by 
day? I found myself watching Matua 
closely, and it seemed to me that for some 
reason she was growing more uneasy as the 
days went by. I could see that she watched 
me anxiously as I ate my food, and I thought 
she disliked the presence of other people at 
these times. I wearied myself with con- 
jectures as to what it could mean. Then I 
decided to leave off eating the food she 
seemed anxious I should avoid, and see what 
effect that would have. I could see her eyes 
grow bright when she saw me make a meal 
off the dried bread-fruit moistened only with 
the liquid of the cocoa-nut. Then she would 
look anxiously around as if in fear that any- 
one else had noticed. What could it mean ? 
Had the food been poisoned, and was 
Matua trying in this secret way to save me ? 
The idea was ridiculous. If they wanted 
to kill me, why should they hesitate 

Vol. xiv.- 33. 

for an hour? They had no vengeance to 
fear, unless the captain of the next English 
man-of-war heard of it. In that case, no 
doubt, sharp, and somewhat indiscriminate, 
vengeance might follow ; but who was there 
to carry the news? No, there was no 
occasion for the use of poison, and no need 
of secrecy. If they wanted to kill me, they 
could do it safely as well as easily. Day 
after day I puzzled over the question, and 
watched eagerly for something that might 
throw some light on the problem. It came 
at last, and it came suddenly. 

It happened one morning. It was hot in 
the hut, and* Matua had brought the food for 
my morning meal out under the shade of the 
great bread-fruit tree which spread its large, 
fan-like leaves between us and the sua I 
had been watching Matua closely for several 
days, and I thought she must be growing 
sick. Her dusky cheeks seemed to be 
growing paler under the olive skin, and I 
thought there was an anxious look in her 
great, dark eyes. I could see her watching 
me stealthily as I was eating, so I let the 
ripe bananas alone and took only some dried 
bread-fruit. While I was eating, the old 
chief came slowly stalking out of his hut 
and took a seat a little way off, observing 
me with the earnest curiosity which had 
somehow become a constant trial to my 
nerves, and filled me with a vague sense of 
horror and alarm. I saw him stare at the 
food I was eating ; then he frowned angrily, 
and glanced at where Matua was sitting, 
looking at the ground. Then he rose, and 
came across to where I was sitting, and 
touched my arm with his hand. I started 
and looked him in the face, for he had never 
touched me before. He returned my look 
steadily, and as he did so I felt his hand 
steal softly down my arm. What was he 
going to do ? He had a small club in his 
other hand — was he going to strike me ? No. 
Slowly, softly, almost tenderly, his hand slid 
down my arm — slid down, and then was with- 
drawn. Then a strange gleam shone in his 
sunken, bloodshot eyes; there was something 
that almost approached a smile on his lower- 
ing face. He drew himself up, muttered 
something in a guttural tone, and turned 

I looked wonderingly after him as he went, 
but the feeling of his touch remained. Then 
like a flash I seemed suddenly to understand. 
Something in that soft touch had betrayed 
the meaning of all. My blood seemed to 
stand still in my veins ; my heart felt as if it 
had ceased to beat in the cold extremity of 





my horror. I sat motionless* My eyes 
alone seemed to have the power to move, 
and now they rested on the face of my 
companion. I could see that she knew. I 
saw she was sure that her secret was a secret 
no longer* Her face, which in spite of its 
dark skin looked pale, seemed to grow paler, 
her large eyes to grow larger, as she returned 
my gaze. I said nothing ; I didn't try to 
speak— there was no need. I had read her 
thought, and she knew that I had read it. 
It was all plain now. It was for this I had 
been saved from the boat; for this the 
savage who found me had worn that diabolical 
grin, which came back to me now like a 
revelation. It was for this that I had been 
nursed back to life ; for this I had been fed 
with the best food the island could afford* 
This explained the interest taken in me 
by the tribe. Was it for this, too, that 
I had attracted the regard of Matua's 
great, sorrowful eyes ? No, surely not 
that last. Nature can speak without the 
language of sounds ; and Nature's language 
spoke for Matua then. She had covered her 
face with her hands : she had bowed her head 
down on her knees as she saL 

Digitized by GGOgle 

We are slaves of habit. 
After a while I finished 
my breakfast By<md-hy 
my blood ran very much 
as usual through my veins ; 
I daresay my cheeks even 
lost the paleness that must 
have come over them 
when this horrible con- 
viction first broke upon 
me. What was to be done ? 
Nothing. Knowledge was 
pnuvrless to help me ; 
even desperation could 
suggest no possible means 
of escape, I tried to think. 
I was a prisoner, I had 
known that for 
some time, though 
until now I had 
no idea what it 
meant. I had no 
w cap o n with 
which to strike 
one blow for 
liberty or life* 
There was no 
place to which I 
could even at- 
tempt to escape ; 
the ocean was 
before me, and I 
also at no great 
in as effect ually, 

knew it must be behind 
distance. I was penned 
as hopelessly, and as helplessly as any other 
animal doomed to die — on ly , u n li k e the 
other animals, I knew it. Oh, the curse 
of knowledge without power ; the knowledge 
of evil without power to escape — of impend- 
ing fate without the power to fly ! 

All that long day I wandered about within 
the Little space in which I could move about 
unmolested At one spot, and only one; I 
was able to catch a glimpse of the ocean, and 
each time I reached it in my walk I paused 
and gazed— fiercely, longingly, hopelessly — 
as the criminal on the steps of the gallows 
gazes in the last faint hope of a reprieve. 
The sun, the beautiful, pitiless sun, poured 
his wealth of golden radiance on the laughing 
water — as he had poured it on our floating 
charnel-house ; as he pours it alike on the 
joys and the despairs of men* Matua followed 
me like a dog— as dumb, but as faithful also, 
and as sympathetic She brought me food, 
but I turned from it with loathing. She 
offered me drink, and I swallowed it with 
a stony despair. The day dragged slowly on, 
Hour after ^hour the shadows travelled 



2 59 

onward over the grass that carpeted 
the place of my imprisonment. I could 
see that I was watched. Again and again 
when I went a few paces farther than usual I 
came upon a native sentinel lying in the 
shade or leaning carelessly against a tree, 
Did they know that I had discovered the 
truth ? If they did, should I be killed at 
once ? If I could have found words in 
which to ask Matua the question I would 
have done so. Her great, sad eyes haunted 
me with a depth of sympathetic pain, but 
the pain was helpless. Whatever she knew s 
I could see that it held out no hope of 
safety ; whatever she suspected, I felt sure it 
brought her no gleam of hope. I could see 
her eyeSj like my own, wander round the 
limits of my prison; like my own they too 
looked out hopelessly over the empty 
expanse of the flashing sea. 

And so the day wore on to evening. 
A day of strangely stunned sensations, 
yet of slowly deepening despair. A 
thousand wild plans of escape had 
entered my mind, only to be dismissed; 
a hundred dreams of quickly-courted 
death had haunted my brain, hut only 
in a feeble, purposeless fashion. I did 
nothing. In the presence of a fate 
which seems inevitable, the will 
grows paralysed and weak. 1 did 
nothing. It was growing dark. 

I could see that I was 
suspected now. No one 
came near me j no one 
attempted to speak to trie ; 
but look where I might 
among the shadows that 
gathered under the trees, I 
could see figures, I could 
fancy I heard low > muttered 
voices that whispered. It 
was useless to stay there. 
At last I rose and went 
into the hut — Matua rose 
and followed me in. I 
seated myself on the ground, 
my back leaning against one 
of the uprights that sup- 
ported the roof- tree, my 
eyes staring through the 
gloom of the hut into the gloom of the 
ni^ht beyond. Matua crouched near ; then 
gradually she crept closer, till at last I 
could feel that she almost touched me, but 
she said nothing. And so we sat for hours. 
Through the entrance of the hut I could 
catch a glimpse of the ocean. Far away 
through the dark vista of the trees and 

Digitized by Li 

shrubs I could see the faint glimmer of the 
stars on the water It was calm ; as calm 
as the nights I had spent in the boat when 
my comrades, more fortunate than I, had 
perished one by one. I seemed to see 
them now ; I seemed to hear them whisper 
in the darkness ; I seemed to trace 
the outlines of their bony hands beckoning 
me to come, Matua crept closer to me BtilL 
Slowly, gradually, tremblingly, her little hand 
stole out and touched me. I thrilled at the 
touch ; I grasped her hand in mine ; I held 
it as men hold on to hope. 

Little by little I felt my eyes grow heavy. 
In spite of despair ; in spite of the haunting 
shadows of the terror, vagutj but horrible, 
that oppressed me ; in spite of the conviction 
that some unknown but awful fate was 


advancing on me step by step — in spite 
of all, I dropped to sleep at last. It 
was a touch that woke me. I started up 
into a sitting position and stared vacantly 
around for a second or two before I 
could collect my senses sufficiently to re- 
member. Two tall, forbidding - looking 
savages f>tood hssfde me. Each of them 




carried a spear in his right hand, and one 
held a flaring torch, the glare of which 
lighted up tire hut with a red, smoky light, 
I looked round. My eyes fell on Matua, 
who sat on the ground beside me, her little 
hand still clasped in mine — her great, sorrow- 
ful eyes fixed upon me still. The man who 
held the torch motioned me to rise, while 
the other touched me on the shoulder with 
his hand. I rose 
to my feet me- 
chanically, and 
he took his place 
at my side while 
his companion 
came to the 
other, motioning 
Matua away, and 
even laying a 
hand roughly on 
her shoulder, I 
let her hand go 
free as I turned 
to follow my 
guards. One of 
the savages 
pointed to the 
open doorway 
with his spear, 
and we left the 
hut Once in 
the open air } the 
scene changed 
as if by magic. 
From near the 
hut in which I 
had lived j across 
the open space 
to the great 
council hut that 
faced the open 
ground on the 
opposite side, a 
continuous line 
of naked savages 
stood on each 
side of what now 
looked like an 
avenue. More 

than half of these held aloft flaring torches 
that blazed up into the still night air, and 
lighted up the long lines of savage faces and 
wild, glaring eyeballs with a ruddy glow that 
was almost diabolical. 

We were on our way to the great council 
hut, and I knew without telling that I 
was on my way to trial and judgment, and 
almost certainly to death. And yet, in 
spite of this knowledge- in spite of the 

Diqilizeo by v.* 


wild and savage show, intended, no doubt, 
to impress me — I was not conscious of any 
terror now. I walked firmly between my 
guards ; I gazed steadily from side to side at 
the wild faces, the glaring eyes, the tossing 
arms, and flaring lights around me* There 
was motion — wild motion — on every side ; 
there was a murmur and muttering such as 
might come from any moving crowd— but 

there was no 
noise. The wild 
procession was 
evide n tl y in- 
tended to be a 
silent one. Matua 
had followed me 
closely, and 
from time to 
time I looked at 
her. There was 
strange about 
her appearance. 
Her eyes were 
fixed on me, and 
yet, as far as I 
could see in that 
wild light, they 
had in them a 
distant, far-away 
look* After a 
glance or two I 
seemed to my- 
self to under- 
stand that look ; 
it was as if 
Matua were lis- 
tening for some 
distant sound- 
listening eagerly, 
intently, as 
though she could 
hear something 
that reached no 
ear but her own. 
We had crossed 
half the space to 
the great hut, 
and we halted. 
As we did so, an old savage ■ naked, 
hideous, smeared with lines and circles of 
ghastly red and white colour on both face 
and body, stepped suddenly out of the 
ranks and confronted me. He came close 
to me ; he peered with dim and blood- 
shot eyes into my face ; he put out a long, 
thin, withered-looking arm, and with a claw- 
like hand he touched my arm, A strange, 
wild gleam liehteil ujj frisiwnken eyes with a 





glow like that of madness as he did so ; then 
he turned away and shouted something in a 
high, quavering tone that rang tremulous yet 
fierce over the silent ranks. There was a 
wild yell, a tossing of the torches, a fierce 
brandishing of the spears, as the old man 
turned and led the way. My eyes were fixed 
on Matua ; the attitude of the old savage 
was scarcely more striking than her own at 
the moment. She was standing perfectly 
still. Amidst that crowd of excited forms 
and tossing figures she seemed as if she 
saw nothing of what was going on around 
her. Her eyes were fixed ; her lips were 
half open — she was listening. The example 
was infectious — I listened also. Then, 
between the yells of the savages, through 
the crackle of the flaming torches, it reached 
my ears. I thought I heard a sound that 
was familiar. Far off, indeed, faint, and yet 
clear and distinct, it came out of the dark- 
ness ; it stole over the silent sea ; it came 
creeping along the shore and through the 
palm-trees — it was the throb of oars ! I 
looked at Matua again. There was a wild, 
eager look in her eyes as she returned my 
gaze. A strange, fierce smile dawned on her 
face as she turned slowly away. 

The procession had formed again, and, led 
now by the old painted savage, we moved on 
towards the council hut. I went like a man 
who walks in his sleep. The flaring lights 
and the moving figures, the lines of savage 
faces and glaring eyes, looked like unreal 
phantoms, the shadows cf a nightmare dream. 
I was listening, listening as I went, for the 
sound that spoke of home, and recalled the 
lost vision of hope. Just as we reached the 
hut I heard it again. Through the distant 
silence of the sea it came to my ears with 
the low, solemn echo of a distant throb — far 
off still, but more distinct. It was a boat — a 
boat rowed by many oars — and she was 
making for the shore. My guards laid each 
a hand upon my shoulders, and forced me 
gently onward. Like a man in a dream I 
entered the hut ; like a man in a dream I left 
the world behind. 

The council hut was a large one, and now 
it seemed to be occupied by the great 
assembly of the tribe. All seemed to be 
there. Warriors crowded the foreground, 
and behind them, rank beyond rank, were 
old men, and women, and even children — 
all had assembled to see the white man die. 
I was the centre of interest as we passed 
slowly up the hall. On every side there were 
eager eyes watching my face in the red light 
of the wavering torches ; everywhere fierce, 

Digitized by G< 

curious faces were bent upon me as I passed. 
I was led up to where the old chief sat, more 
stern and repulsive-looking than ever, at the 
end of the hut, on a platform raised several feet 
from the ground, and there I was halted before 
him. He looked steadily at me for a 
moment, and then he slowly raised the hand 
in which he held the club. At the signal 
there was a yell from the assembled tribe, 
and at the same moment I felt myself seized 
by strong hands from behind and thrown to 
the ground. In a moment, cords were passed 
round me — round my arms, my legs, my 
body, they turned and twisted, till in less 
time than it takes to write the words I was 
lying helpless, a mere log from the neck to 
the feet. I could still turn my head ; I could 
still move my ankles, but that was all I 
could do. 

I had scarcely time to think of my 
new situation, and what it meant, when I 
found myself suddenly lifted to my feet 
and thence to the platform on which the 
old chief was seated, and then placed on a 
strange-looking seat of wood, which had now 
been set close to the edge of the platform. 
The chair had a broad, low seat, and a high, 
narrow back, and I had hardly been placed 
on the seat when another cord was passed 
around my neck, and then twisted spirally 
round my body till I was bound so closely 
to the chair that I was helpless to move my 
body at all, and could but just turn my head 
slightly from side to side by an effort. The 
task of my guards was done ; they drew 
back for an instant, and looked at me 
critically as I sat ; then, smiling grimly, 
they left me to my fate. What that fate 
was going to be I now began dimly — 
very dimly as yet — to comprehend. That 
I was to die, indeed, I had felt sure ever 
since the day before — the only question that 
was really in doubt was how I was to die. 
Even on this point I was not kept in 
suspense very long. Just at first, it is true, 
there seemed to be a lot of ceremonies 
performed by the painted old savage who 
had led the procession, and now appeared 
in the middle of the hut at the farther end, 
where an open space was made for him 
by the others, who crowded back as if 
they were afraid of him. The old savage 
certainly was a frightful object, and I was 
not surprised to see that the other savages 
gave him a wide berth. I found myself 
wondering dreamily what the old wretch ^yas 
doing, as he moved back and forward, waving 
his arms slowly in the air and apparently 
muttering something to himself. I thought 

■_-l I '-1 1 1 I :i I II" 




it must be some kind of prayer from the look 
of awe — almost of terror —on the faces of the 
wondering forms around him. I stared 
stupidly at these faces. To me they seemed 
all very much alike, and after dwelling on 
them for a minute or two, my eyes wandered 
on to where the wide entrance let me look 
out upon the real world, beyond that night- 
mare vision of tossing arms, and diabolical 
faces, in the smoky red light of the flaring 

The day was beginning to dawn outside. 
Far away, over the glistening surface of the 
ocean, I could make out the silvery back- 
ground of the brightening horizon. Little by 
little I watched the light increase. The low, 
droning voice of the savage old priest — for 
such I had decided in my own mind he must 
be — hardly attracted my attention now, 
though I was conscious of the sound, and 
could even in some degree follow the 
grotesque motions of his writhing body as he 
went through his mummery. Even the 
prospect of death was hardly present to my 
mind any longer. I was watching the sea, 
as I had watched it a thousand times before ; 
I was conscious only of the brightening 
welcome of the coming day* 

At last the old priest's ritual seemed to be 
ended, for he stepped slowly backward till he 
had almost reached the entrance, so that I 
could no longer look out at the sea and the 
distant horizon without seeing him. As he 
went he chanted in a low, blood-curdling tone, 
moving his arms and keeping time with his 
feet to the music. Strange as it may seem, it 
was music of a sort. I can remember it now, 
and note by note, as he chanted, he moved 
slowly backwards — note by note, as he sang, 
the assembled tribe followed him in a low, 
guttural echo, too horrible to describe — the 
sound of that echo haunts me still. He reached 
the further wall at last ; he unfastened some- 
thing that hung against the door-post of the 
hut, and brought it slowly forward. I gazed 
— I could do nothing but gaze with a fasci- 
nated stare — as the bird gazes at the serpent, 
as the antelope stares at the creeping figure 
of the lion. He was carrying something in 
his arms, and after the first few moments I 
was able to make out what it was. It seemed 
to be a club — a short, thick club, with one 
great solid knob at the end. And now I 
could see that the other end was fastened to 
a strong cord of fibre, which seemed to hang 
from the ridge-pole of the hut. The priest 
brought it forward, till now it swung perpen- 
dicular, and nearly touched the floor. The 
red glare of the torches fell upon it as it 

Digitized byl^OOgle 

hung, and painted it the colour of blood. 
The lights glanced on its dark and solid 
substance, afrd shone dully on the knob, 
which looked stained and black. 

The old savage paused and looked at me, 
his hand upon the swinging club, his eyes 
fixed on mine with the gaze of a basilisk. I 
returned his gaze, and then I knew what was 
intended to be my fate. For a moment I 
shuddered. For an instant the dancing 
torch-lights and the demon forms swam 
before my eyes, but after all it was only for a 
moment. Behind the eager, savage faces 
that glared on me ; behind the tossing 
crimson lights that flared and flickered in 
the thick, smoky atmosphere, I could see 
the rippling water glimmering through 
the trees, and with the familiar sight 
came the thought of the race to which I 
belonged. With the recollection my nerves 
grew steady once more. It was not for me 
to tremble before a crowd of savages. I 
looked into the face of the painted priest ; I 
stared fixedly at the hanging club and the 
vibrating cord — I looked, and I think I 

The old priest raised his hand and re- 
commenced his chant. Slowly, very slowly, 
he began to swing the heavy club as he sang. 
Backwards it swung and forwards — slowly, 
regularly, with a ghastly rhythm in its move- 
ment, each swing keeping time to a note of 
the old man's low, monotonous chant, each 
rebound the signal for the deep, guttural 
echo which sprang from the throats of 
the assembled tribe. I understood it now. 
I was doomed to die, indeed, but not 
to die too quickly. The club would 
strike me at last, but not until I had suffered 
the expectation of death long enough to 
satisfy the cruel longings of the savages. 
It swung slowly and gently at first. The 
hand of the painted priest seemed scarcely 
to touch it at each rebound ; but always the 
same hellish chant from the priest, and 
always the same awful, half-whispered refrain 
from the long rows of savage faces. I could 
see it come an inch or two nearer each time 
it swung ; I could tell each time it fell back, 
as if reluctantly, that a few moments more of 
my time had slid into eternity. Little by 
little it came nearer. There was a strange 
monotony that grew upon me as I looked. 
I found my thoughts wandering to other 
times and places. My eyes looked beyond 
the swinging club to the ripples that danced 
in the light of the rapidly dawning day. 
Little things arrested my attention— the 
swaying of |T) r jpa1m tree in the breeze, the 





reflection of the new morning light from the 
coral on the beach, the distant barking of a 

The interest was growing more intense. 
The great club was swinging closer now. 
Moment by moment it was rising nearer to 
the level of my eyes as it swung. I could n't 
move my head much, but hy an effort I 
could turn my eyes downward and watch it 
as it came. Each time I was conscious that 
I drew a longer breath ; each time I felt that 
I was nerving myself to meet the coming 
blow ; and yet each time it swung back 
without touching* With every swing the 
chant of the priest grew more savage; at 
each recoil the answering chorus grew deeper 
and more fervent. 

It was coming — surely it was coming now ! 
No. The club hid .stirred my hair with the 
wind it had made, and yet it swung back 
again. Again it swung — nearer, nearer, 
nearer yet ! The wind stirred my hair; the 
cold, heavy wood touched my brow — touched, 
and swung back again. I opened my eyes, 

shining, the trees were waving, the ripples 
were sparkling in the sun. 

A sudden flash crossed my line of sight, 
followed instantly by a hiss and then a roar. 
Something fell through the roof of the hut to 
the floor with a crash and an explosion, In 
a moment the whole place seemed to heave 
and rock. The old priest leaped into the air 
and fell backwards ; the faces to right and 
left seemed to dissolve like the faces shown 
by a magic lantern. Something, too, ailed 
the club. I saw it spin round and then swing 
wildly among the heaving crowd that now 
seemed filled with a vague terror. Again ! 
Again ! And yet again ! In quick succes- 
sion the shells followed one another, and 
scattered death on every side. With yell 
upon yell of wild terror, and almost more 
wild surprise, the savages broke from the 
place and fled. Close to my feet lay 
the body of the old chief, grim even in 
death, and in the centre of the hut I could 
see where the shattered remains of the 
painted priest lay stretched on the ground 



which I had closed involuntarily; I stared near where the club hung quivering still. 1 

wildly at the swinging club, at the painted 
savage, at the crowd of staring eyes and 
parted lips ; beyond these the sun was 

by L^OOgle 

stared stupidly around on the scene. I tried 
feebly to free my arms or to move my 
head, but it was in vain. There was a con* 
Original from 





fused sound in my ears of shouts and yells, 
and the firing of shots, and the noise of 
distant cheering ; and then it all melted away, 
and I ceased to hear or to feel. 

I came to myself slowly. I could hear 
voices, but they sounded muffled and in- 
distinct. 1 could feel wind blowing on my 
face with a fresh, familiar feeling in its touch. 
Then I felt something in contact with my 
hand — a soft, tremulous touch, such as I had 
felt before— and then I opened my eyes. It 
was the bright morning sun that was shining 
into my face ; it was the fresh sea-breeze 
that was blowing through my hair ; it was the 
little hand of Matua that was softly touching 
my own. A group of sailors stood around 
looking at me curiously, though with hearty, 

by Google 

friendly faces, and an officer in uniform knelt 
on one knee by my side, I looked from 
one to another, confused and wondering. 
"Mates," I stammered ; " how's this, mates? 
How did I get here ? " 

" How? ?1 said the officer, rising to his feet 
as he spoke. " Well, my man, you owe it 
mostly to the lucky chance that brought us 
here in time, and to this girl who let us know 
that there was a white man to be saved> and 
a lot of blood-thirsty savages to be punished/' 

1 looked at him as he spoke, and I 
remembered it alL Then I looked at Matua. 
"Thank you, sir," I said. "Thank you. 
Yes, you're about right there. It was a 
lucky chance, and no mistake ; and, after all, 
it was only touch and go. ? ' 

Original from 


Kv James Walter Smith. 

E was a 
bold and 
man who 
took the 
photograph with 
which we open this 
article, Most people, 
when they get in 
the vicinity of a tor- 
nado, get out of it 
as quickly as their 
legs will carry them, 
or hustle into their 
"cyclone cellars Th 
and hide* But this 
man bravely planted 
his camera iti front 
of the storm, and 
caught the tornado 
cloud while it was 
doing its deadly 
work. A pretty thing 
it is, this photograph. 
It shows admirably 
the funnel shape of 
the tornado and the 
darkening sky-often 
called, from its odd, 

Ftvm a Pk>to. fry T. Croft, (.Alfdwuut Citj/. ti.T. 

greenish tinge, the 
"tornado sky," It 
shows also the cloud 
of dust which in- 
variably precedes 
the windy monster, 
and often hides its 
approach from view. 
How clearly it stands 
out, and how minute 
the funnel seems. 
Yet the tornado was 
about five miles dis- 
tant when the photo- 
graph was taken in 
Oklahoma City, on 
May 14th, 1896, and 
the probable diame- 
ter of the funnel was 
roughly estimated to 
measure T,oooft + 

Now, those who 
have other engage- 
ments when a tor- 
nado is hurtling 
along are sensible 
men. The people 
of Wellington, Kan- 
sas, will bear witness 


Vo«. *iv,-34. 

*Vw«l a rh&toptopk. Lent by Kogfll JfkfajnjJupirai ^••xWjh -i I f rn in 

by L*i 




to this, and our second illustra- 
tion will support them* Kansas, 
by the way, is a favourite 
spot of the "twisters," as the 
Westerners playfully term their 
windy enemy, and in some of 
the schools there the children 
have tornado drills. When 
the dreaded funnel is seen, a 
belt rings and, in regular order 
under charge of the master, 
the children file downstairs 
into the cellar. When it's all 
over they march, like Humpty 
Dumpty, back again, or else 
go out to survey the ruins and 
hunt for their relatives and 
cows. At such times, a dreary 
and painful sight meets their 
eyes. Ruin on top of ruin, 
devastated homes, and count- 
less dead beneath. At Well- 
ington, the tornado of May 
27 th, 1893, cut a clean 
swath through the heart of 
the town, and search parties 
were at work for days 
amongst the ruins of the shattered buildings. 
No language can exaggerate the fury of 

ftDl * Ptotit. b*t W t\ mili*9* tin 



Frvm a Photo, b# W. F. Stallinvt* Uritwrfi, Iowa, I*ni by Roval Mttwrvlopitat Society, 

these winds. They come with an indescrib- 
able roar, which has been likened to the 
rattling of a thousand trains or the 
bellowing of a million mad bulls. 
After that the wreckage. In the 
Grinnell, Iowa, tornado, which oc- 
curred on June 17th, 1882, and 
was one of the worst on record, 
railroad trains were thrown from 
the line as if they were straws, and 
landed in the neighbouring fields 
upside down* Sixty people were 
killed, 140 injured, and 140 houses 
destroyed. The loss amounted to 
over ^120,000. A very curious 
incident of this tornado is shown 
in the illustration given above. 
A horse was blown 1,000ft. from 
a stable, and was found alive, with 
the remnant of his manger on his 
halter. Needless to say, that horse 
has a reputation that will last as 
long as his pedigree, and after 

But the freaks of tornadoes would 
fill volumes. Men and women are 
caught up and landed safe and 
sound miles away, Iron objects, 
1,5001b. in weight, have been 
moved 2 oft, pieces of tin roofing 
carried seventeen miles, letters 
carried forty-five miles, and houses 
lifted bodily and deposited on new 

rol&fTiait Sinrif'ttf, 




foundations. In 
Rochester, Minne- 
sota, on August 
2 1 st, 1883, a boiler 
was carried out of 
a machine shop, 
and landed near a 
wooden building, 
from which the tor- 
nado considerately 
extracted a portion 
of one story, leaving the rest of 
the building intact. This freak 
was matched in a storm al I,aw- 
rence, Massachusetts, some years 
ago, when a piano was overturned, as 
shown in our illustration, and was 
still found fit for use. In this same 
storm, the top and side of a wooden 


Frtrm 4 Phaiaffmph, 

Ftvm a rhoto. bg Ch&rU* A, Tmntif, Winmu, Minn. Ltni by fio^al Mt:ttuix>li V L<:ul Society 

house were blown 
to the ground, 
leaving the family 
beds in full view. 
As many people 
know, there is 
sometimes a very 
sudden change of 
pressure in a tor- 
nado. For the tech- 
nically- minded, I 
may add that this 
change is due, as 
the meteorologists 
put it, to the great 
depression of the 
isobaric surfaces, 

» I 1 * * * V 


the preSSUre near frvnia I'to^ra^ Unity Royal Meteorofapiculihetetv. 


the centre of the 
tornado. This is 
the learned ex- 
planation of many 
of the explosive 
effects observed 
during the passage 
of a tornado, and 
some of the freaks 
mentioned above 
are due to the 
same ca^ise. Corks 
are said to fly from 
empty bottles, 
cellar doors are 
burst open against 
the force of a 
strong wind blow- 
ing against them 

by Google 



Frum u /'Aoiii. iy /VwJk Itro*., A>if J'or* City. /^enC bp JfopiJ Jf< fc orotoffA ul Hmv r .-.■ . 

on the outside, the walls of houses are pushed 
outwards on all sides, roofs are suddenly 
raised up and blown away, and the expansion 
of air under copper or tin coverings tears them 
up and carries them away. Window-panes have 
been blown out and sashes left untouched ; 
and in a tornado at St. Cloud, Minnesota, 
some years ago, panels were torn from the 
doors, the house being otherwise undamaged, 

For some days T beginning September 1 1 th, 
1889, a cyclone played havoc along the 
Atlantic coast from New Jersey to Cape 
Hatteras, in North Carolina, The sea broke 
its fetters and dashed upon the land with 
destructive violence* A railway station in 
New Jersey was 
swept away, and 
a powerful train 
wrecked* One of 
the illustra- 
tions gives a view 
of the cyclone's 
work, and the 
illustration be- 
neath shows 
more closely the 
damage to the 

The Rochester 
tornado, already 
mentioned, lifted 
a railway train 
into the air, and 
injured eighty 
people. Twenty- 
six lives were lost, 
and 300 build- 
ings destroyed 

Hailstones were found measuring loin, in 
circumference, and a horse, shown in our 
illustration, was spitted to the ground by a 
flying tree. 

There has always been a strange con- 
fusion between tornadoes and cyclones, with 
the odds on "cyclones," where tornadoes 
were really meant. The newspapers have 
been mainly responsible for this confusion 
of terms, and in order to influence popular 
usage to conform more strictly to scientific 
usage, the United States Weather Bureau 
recently sent out a circular to the leading 
journals of that country, asking their co- 
operation* The circular might to be pasted 


ffGiti a I'mtv. lit Path /irirf T + Vcw Vurk City. Uii.t by /tojmJ JMcv rulrjpicui Awist^ 

Original from 


by GoO^Ic 


. ■ 




/^oma Photo, by Gharla A. Tenner Wintma,, Minn Lint by Royal MnttQ^olaQital Suciely, 

in every pressman's hat. It points out that 
a tornado is a sudden outburst of wind in 
an'othcrwise quiet, sultry atmosphere; ushered 
in by a loud roar ; its path is very narrow — 
seldom more than 500ft. wide at greatest 
destruction ; it moves generally from south - 
west to north-east, and rarely extends more 
than twenty miles ; it very often rises in the 
air to descend again at a point a few miles 
ahead ; it is often accompanied by thunder- 
storms, with often a bright glow in the clouds. 
The circular also mentions the "funnel 
shape," and adds that a tornado may be 
considered as the result of an extreme 

development of conditions which otherwise 
produce thunderstorms. 

A cyclone, on the other hand, is a very 
broad storm, oftentimes a thousand miles in 
diameter, and sometimes can be followed 
half-way round the world ; the winds circulate 
about it from right to left, or the way one 
turns clock -hands backwards, this motion 
being reversed in the southern hemisphere. 
The air-pressure falls as one approaches the 
centre, where, at sea, there is a portentous 
calm, with clear sky visible at times* The 
cyclone winds often rise to hurricane force, 
but are not to be compared with the extreme 



J '.■ ".■.■" a J ''"■?.. '■■■■ '.) h 


Original from 



VtWMk a Pikotooniph. 

violence of the tornado, before which the 
most solid structures are razed. 

The difference may also be clearly seen 
from the fact that on February oth, 1884, 
over sixty tornadoes occurred in the United 
States, at differences of 500 to 2,000 miles. 
They were part of a tremendous cyclone 
which destroyed 10,000 buildings, killed Soo 
people, and wounded 2,500. 

But let us again to the freaks. A recent 

tornado at Chandler, in Oklahoma Territory, 
swept away the town with the exception of 
the three buildings shown on the previous 
page. These three were totally unharmed, not 
even a rip in an awning being found. This was 
one of the almost inexplicable wonders of the 
storm. In this tornado another very curious 
incident occurred, A gust of wind entered 
a small wooden building and, lifting the 
carpet from the floor as neatly as if it had 


ft- mi a Photograph* 



AT a[, Q.T. 

Original from 








From a Photo, bit TF. F. Stallittgs* Grinndl, Itntxi. Lent hy JfotuJ 

been done by human agency, carried it to a 
tree near by, where it lodged in the branches 
and resisted the buffeting of the elements, 
while trees , houses, and carriages were flying 
in all directions, 

The velocity is frightful. In most cases, 
the tornado travels thirty miles an hour. The 
wind in the vicinity of the whirling funnel is 
estimated to be 300 or more miles an 
hour. Objects are gathered up, sucked in, 
whirled around, and finally shot out with 
gigantic force and deadly result Horses 
are stripped of their harness, bedding and 
clothing are torn to tatters, and mud is 
blown into blankets with such velocity that 
it cannot be washed out. 

At Mount Carmel, in Illinois, June 4th, 
1877, a brick entered a house through the 
weather - boarding, lath, and plastering, 
crossed two rooms, a distance of 27ft., and 
lodged in a rear wall without breaking even 
the corners from the brick. So great, indeed, 
was its velocity, that the laths were cut quite 
smoothly without cracking the adjoining 
plastering. During this same storm, I may 
mention, the spire, vane, and gilded ball of 
the Methodists' Church was carried through 
the air for fifteen miles- 
All accounts go to show that a tornado 
never forgets the chickens, It strips the 
feathers from their backs as cleanly as if they 
were plucked by hand. In order to estimate 
the force necessary to do this, an American 
professor once loaded a six- pounder with 
five ounces of powder, and used, instead of 
a ball, a chicken newly killed. Me shot 
upward, as if in the funnel of a tornado, 
and the feathers rose some thirty feet. They 

Digitized by GoOgJC 

were pulled out clean, no flesh adhering, but 
the chicken was torn to pieces. The velocity 
was 341 miles an hour. Upon this basis the 
professor argued that with a slightly less 
velocity the feathers might be torn from the 
chicken without injury. Whether or not this 
argument is correct (and some contend that 
the feathers are ejected owing to the expansion 
of air in the quills) it is certain that plucked 
chickens are a regular feature of tornado 

Many observers have noted that nails are 
often driven into boards head-first, and rafters 
have been seized by the wind and shot 
through the sides of houses. In the disas- 
trous Grinnell tornado of '82, a large plank, 
shown in our illustration, was driven slantwise 
through a solid flooring. So neatly was the 
incision made, that it was with difficulty the 
plank coulrl be dislodged. In a recent 
tornado at Norman, Oklahoma Territory, a 
shovel was embedded half its length in a 
large tree. The section of the tree contain- 
ing the shovel, as shown herewith, has lately 
been on exhibition in Oklahoma, and has 
attracted wide attention. 

Boards have been driven into the ground 
with a velocity, it is stated, of 682 miles 
an hour. It is, morever, no unusual sight 





to find flying 
splinters firmly 
lodged in the 
bark, of trees* A 
very striking 
photograph of 
such a sight is 
reproduced at 
the top of this 
page. The splin- 
ter—if one can 
call a good-sized 
piece of wood a 
splinter — has 
cut its path 
neatly under Lhe 
bark, and is 
tightly held in 
place as if in a 
vice. More re- 
markable, how- 
ever, is the 
photograph re- 
produced at the 
we see numerous 
different sorts of 

M'LISTKIi UfclYtlN THftOL'Cill UAfcK, 

From n PA&to, fry Charte A, Tenure ITfMfl* Mitm, 

end of this article. Here 
straws sticking strongly in 
bark. As in the case of 

the chickens, 
have been made 
to find out what 
velocity is neces- 
sary to drive 
such straws into 
wood. A me- 
chanical air- 
blast has been 
used, and with 
a velocity of 
135 to 160 miles 
an hour, the 
straws have been 
shot into the 
bark a distance 
of one-tenth of 
an inch. When 
mere straws can 
thus be turned 
by a tornado 
into darts of 
deadly aim, is it any wonder that cities should 
be devastated, and that man's cheek should 
blanch at the sight of the on-rushing storm ? 

l*\\l fry U I r ■> | J I 

From a Ptota, by i.'tiarfoi A. Tmnty, Winona, Minn, l^ni by /tujiul Alcttyj^&yintl Sociiin. 

by Google 

Original from 

By G, M Rqrihs, 

'Ti* an awkward thing to play with souU.—RdBEKT Brow n inc. 

HERE was something almost 
miraculous, to our English 
eyes, in the clearness of the 
atmosphere. Used as we were 
to view everything through the 
tender, softening medium of 
our island mists, there was an element of the 
unnatural in the bald distinctness with which 
every indentation on the brown ironstone 
rocks, every rut on the dazzling white road, 
every weed in every crevice, every outline on 
the sharp horizon, impressed itself upon the 

Claire was in high spirits. She loved 
travel, she loved adventure ; she was regret- 
ting that there was no absolute danger in our 
present journey. 

"If it had been only thirty years ago, 
even ! " sighed she, " The coach would 
have been in danger every moment of being 
stopped— held up, don't they call it? — by 
road agents. There would have been a 
handsome leader, whose look assured one 
instantly that he had once been a gentle- 
man; and he would have fallen in love with 
both of us, Maidie ! Only think, how nice ! " 
My turn of mind was always of the 
practical order. 

11 But we're not in the coach," I objected, 
" No ! I wish we were ! We might as well 
have come that way, and got a little insight 
into California!! travel I ,? she said, quite 

VoL iiv.-a5. 

Digitized by (jOOQ I C 

pettishly. For our uncle had sent his own 
carriage and his own men, to take us the last 
hundred miles of our long, long journey by 

" Uncle Will might just as well have sent 
these two men to take care of us, and let us 
travel by coach as far as Copper Canon : it 
would have been such fun/' sighed Claire. 

u This nice little carriage is much more 
comfortable/ 1 I answered: "and when we 
want to stop and look at anything, we can 
ask Wallis, or DicL Besides, if we had 
come by coach to Copper Canon, Uncle Will 
would have had to send to meet us there, 
and that would have meant another man, 
besides the coach fare for these two, all the 
way from Pebblebrook to the railway and 

"You only think of sordid details," said 
Claire, scornfully, from the becoming shadow 
of her great, red parasol. "Fancy thinking 
of coach fares in the presence of these 
mountains ! Look at them, Maidie— only 
look at them ! How vast, how overwhelming! 
I feel as if we never — never should escape 
from them, somehow. Road agents, indeed! 
Why, armies might he concealed behind 
those cliffs, and each not know of the 
other's presence. It only wants some lonely 
watch-tower on the height to be the most 
terrifying spot I could conceive of in my most 
romantic dreams ! " 

Original from 



"Wallis," I said, uneasily, leaning forward 
to address our driver, "there are no road 
agents now, are there ? " 

For our outlook was growing more and 
more wild and terrible, the hot brown rocks 
were narrowing in upon us ; and the stillness 
had something strangely desolate in it. 

Wallis, a 'cute, but honest-looking, Yankee, 
turned round, and smiled reassuringly. " Not 
for some years now," he said, in his slow 
drawl ; I expect he would have died sooner 
than have said " Miss," yet he was as loyal a 
servant as ever breathed. " I did hear some 
talk of such a thing a month or two back; 
heard the Sheriff was wanting someone that 
had been run out er Copperville, and war 
supposed to have made tracks for Dungeon 
Gap — that's what they call this here lo-cality; 
but you may lay your bottom dollar that if 
the Colonel had thought there w r as the least 
bit of danger, he wouldn't have let you two 
pretty bits of sugar-candy come this way." 

He laughed to himself at the idea, as he 
coaxed the backs of the two strong little 
horses with his whip-lash ; but I am quick to 
notice things, and 1 saw the other man, who 
was a half-caste, turn a short, swift look in 
his direction as he spoke. It was not much 
to notice, perhaps, but it was a furtive look — 
a look that vaguely suggested danger to me. 
But our surroundings were calculated to 
foster wild ideas. 

"'Nother thing," went on Wallis, in his 
queer monotone, "anybody as tried to play 
it low down on us would have to get these 
little trifles that Dick and me carries into 
his reckoning." He displayed the muzzle of 
his revolver ; and this time, it was a much 
more intent look that Dick threw at him. 

" Armed ! " cried Claire ; " that certainly 
does impart a spice of romance to the affair ! 
Why, Wallis, I've twice the respect for you, 
now that I know you carry a revolver ! " 

" I can do better than carry it, young 
woman ; I can use it," said Wallis, with that 
queer, significant inflection of voice which 
makes almost anything a Yankee says sound 
witty. We both laughed, with great approval 
of our trusty escort ; and then, for a few 
moments, silence fell as the road grew very, 
very steep— a mere cutting, cleft down deep 
between two vast, beetling bastions of rock. 
The half-caste swung himself noiselessly off 
the driving-seat, and walked by the horses' 
heads. He whistled a tune, as he patted 
and encouraged them. Most bewilderingly 
the road twisted in and out ; we could at no 
time see more than a few yards ahead ; we 
had both been two months in America, doing 

Digitized by CiOOglc 

Niagara and Quebec, and going up the 
Saguenay to Cape Eternity; but nothing that 
we had seen impressed us with the awful 
sense of sublimity that this mighty gorge 
called forth. 

And then, in the utter stillness, we heard 
the sound of a horse snorting, and the jingle 
of steel, echoed back with astonishing clear- 
ness from the silent rocks. We turned a 
sharp corner, and there was a group of men, 
masked, drawn across the narrow road, with 
the evident intention of preventing our 

Claire's adventure had come to her ! 

"Stop ! " called a deep voice, peremptorily. 
It came from a mounted man. 

" Held up, by heavens ! " I heard Wallis 
mutter, between his teeth, as he pulled up 
the startled, sweating horses. 

" Hold up your hands, or I fire ! " cried 
the same voice. 

Wallis was fain to do so ; he was covered 
by half-a-dozen revolvers, and the sacrifice 
of his life would have been no use to us 
then. But Claire was on her feet in an 
instant. With one spring, and as it seemed 
to me in a moment of time, she had sprung 
up behind W'allis, dived into his pocket, and 
fired off his weapon into the thick of our 
assailants. She knew they would not fire on 
her ; but, even as the pistol clicked, Wallis 
gave a hoarse cry. It was not loaded : the 
charge had been withdrawn ! 

Recognising in a flash the treachery of the 
half-caste, Wallis hurled at him epithets which 
seemed to me, at that moment, to scorch like 
physical heat. But it was of iro use ; the 
horrible Dick was on the winning side, and 
he grinned. 

Four men came forward, leaving us still 
covered by half-a-dozen revolvers ; they bound 
poor Wallis hand and foot, removed him 
from the box, and then approached us. 
Claire w r as standing up in the carriage, look- 
ing more lovely than I had ever seen her. 
The colour blazed in her cheek ; her mien 
was that of a captive queen. 

" Which is the leader of this set of 
ruffians? " said she, to the one nearest her. 

Oh ! alas, for romance ! They were 
ruffians, and no mistake. Though their 
masks hid the upper part of their faces, there 
was simply not a loop-hole for imagination 
anywhere. But for their appearance of 
greater physical strength, they might have 
been a crew of London thieves of the lowest 
class. The man addressed by Claire leered 
horribly, and said, with an unmistakable 

Cockney twang : — 

J rigmal from 




11 'Ere, capting, the young lydy wants to 
speak to yer." 

On this, the man rode forward, unmasked, 
and checked his horse at oar side. 

I saw Claire's face fall as she looked at 
him, with a woful sense that romance and 
reality are two different things. He 
was a thick-set, clumsy-looking man, 
neither young nor old— perhaps some 
years this side of forty. His 
face was burnt very red with 
the mo, his close-cropped hair 
was sandy, and his eyebrows 

I'm afraid, my dears. If you have, we'll make 
our apologies, and let you go without delay : 
but, unless I am misinformed, you are expect- 
ing remittances to meet you, at Colonel Hurst's 
Ranch, over by Pebblebrook. So I think 
it will suit us better to keep you as hostages 

for the ransom 
that the Colonel 
will no doubt only 
too gladly for- 
ward for the re- 
covery of two 
such treasures." 

almost white : he was more like a com- 
mercial traveller in needy circumstances than 
a bandit. It was a face dead to all con- 
siderations save those of £ s. d. 

However, Claire was never one to let her- 
self be daunted by the unforeseen; she 
pulled herself together in an instant. 

"Explain, if you please/' said she, with 
the air of a lady addressing her butler 
caught stealing the plate. "What does this 
mean ? Why have you stopped us ? 
Why have you dared to make my servant 
prisoner ? " 

" For the simple reason that you haven't 
got money enough about you to content us, 




u This is nothing but what they 
call bluff, " said Claire, with her 
superb air. t£ Because we are women, 
you think you can frighten us; but 
you are mistaken. I know quite 
well that you will not d:irc to hold 
us prisoners ; the days arc past when 
such things were possible. So the 
jest may end." 

The captain was lighting his pipe, which 
had gone out ; he flung away his match, with 
a short laugh. 

"Glad you see it in that light/' he said. 
" But it wasn't intended as a practical joke, I 
assure you ; we can't afford such luxuries. 
Here you are, and here we mean to keep 
you, till we can sell you at our own price. If 
your relations don't see it — well, there's 
several of us wants wives, and well have to 
draw lots for you." 

This sally amused the men ; to me, the 
horror of it was simply deadly ; and to 
my everlasting degradation, I fainted away, 
Original from 



slipping down to the floor of the carriage in 
a state of comply insensibility. 

When I came to myself, Claire's arm was 
round me ; I knew it to be hers, because of the 
faint odour of violets which always hung 
about her things. The carriage was in 
motion , but there was a bandage tied over 
my eyes- 

" Claire, oh, Claire ! " I panted. 

" Hush, darling/' whispered she, with a 
comforting pressure of her strong, laving arm. 
"Don't speak, there is one of those devils 
in the carriage with us." 

I moaned. " Are you blindfold, too ? w 


The word leapt from between her clenched 
teeth, with an energy which boded ill for her 
captors, should the tables ever be turned 
upon them. But something in her strong, 
reserved silence gave me confidence, I would 
not disgrace her, so I lay still in her arms. 

On, on, on, went the carriage, up some 
incredibly steep gradient ; we could hear the 
brutal men lashing and goading the brave little 
horses ; hut even that could not make Claire 
break through her 
silence, though I felt 
her quiver at each 
blow. We must have 
gone on so for two 
hours, I think — it 
seemed like two 
days, Then at last 
they stopped, and 
we heard the voice 
of the captain. 

" Now, ladies, we 
must trouble you to 
get out and walk* 
The way into our 
parlour is up a wind- 
ing stair, if I may 
quote from the 
poets. I don't think 
the horses could do 
it" At the same 
moment he caught 
me by the waist, to 
lift me out ; I was 
not prepared for it, 
and 1 shrieked aloud 
with terror. There 
was a chorus of rude 
laughter, and the 

man chuckled odiously as he set me down 
on my foct " Claire \ Claire ! " I cried. 

Almost instantly I felt her slim, warm hand 
slipped into mine, so bravely and protect ingly. 
sl Maidie, Maidie," whispered she, with 

Digitized by CiOOJZfC 

passionate urgency, t( they are not likely to 
let us walk together, as we cannot see where 
we are going ; I entreat you not to cry out 
unless you are really being insulted ; it goes 
to my heart to hear your cries." 
" I— I promise," sobbed L 
Then I was taken by the arm, not unkindly, 
I think the men saw that I was delicate and 
timid, and my unseen guide said to me, in a 
not unpleasant, though shockingly unedu- 
cated, voice, " All right, little 'un, nobody's 
going to kill you* Take it easy, and Til tote 
you when you're tired. JT 

So on we went, and up we went— up, up, 
up. I stumbled cruelly, not seeing where to 
set my feet, and unable to keep from occa- 
sional small sounds of distress, as I struck 
my feet against the stones. At last I felt 
quite worn out, and the tears began to fall, 
though I cried quietly, to avoid distressing 

14 Done for?" said my escort, half-con- 

temptuously. u You ain't got the spirit of the 

other one ! My ! She is a good plucked 'un ! n 

So saying, he picked me up, and toted me, 

as he called it, with 

a good deal of puff 

ingand blowing, and 

Hopping to rest 

" Shall I put in a 
turn? :J asked one of 
his comrades. 

11 Not this journey ; 
I'm getting kinder 
used to this now, 
and I believe I 
kinder like it," was 
the magnanimous 

At last we were 
set down. I reeled, 
as my feet touched 
the ground, but the 
arms of that won- 
derful Claire were 
\ around me in an 
instant, and it was 
she who un bandaged 
my eyes. 

We were in a cave, 

one end of which 

had been open> and 

he j*ickej> me up. ' was now inclosed by 

boards, with a pretty 
good -sized window. There was a long, 
narrow table, made of planks, and several 
benches. Here and there, on the rocky 
walls, were pasted pictures from the lower 
sort of American illustrated papers — all 




vulgar, some silly, and some indecent. 
From the window we could see only a 
jagged fringe of rocks, about ten feet off, 
so we judged at once that the cave would 
be quite invisible to anyone who was 
standing anywhere but on this narrow 
terrace. I lifted my anguished eyes to Claire ; 
she was very white, but she did not flinch. 

" Be brave— they dare not hurt us," she 
whispered ; and then suddenly straightened 
herself up, as the captain entered, carefully 
closing the door behind him. 

" I'm afraid you're tired, ladies," said he, 
with what was evidently intended to be 
civility. " You shall have something to eat 
directly ; and meanwhile, here's your sleeping 

He went to the dark end of the cave, and 
opened a plank door. We peered at the 
inner cave with shrinking hearts. It was lit 
by a hole in the roof, and contained two straw 
mattresses, with woollen rugs thrown over 
them, and a tin basin on a bench. 

" Not the handsome accommodation I 
should like to offer you, but we don't often 
have lady visitors," he remarked. Claire 
looked in silence, and turned away into the 
larger and lighter room. She seated herself 
by the table. 

" We must have a few minutes' conversa- 
tion, if you please," said she, still preserving 
the voice and manner of a mistress dealing 
with a dishonest servant. " I wish to under- 
stand your intentions clearly. You say you 
intend to keep us here in order to induce our 
uncle to buy our lives, is it (or our liberty) 
from you ? " 

He hesitated a moment. "Your lives are 
in no danger," he then said. 

" In no case ? Not even if we tried to 
escape ? " 

He laughed very contemptuously. "If 
you try to escape, you will be brought back, 
that's all." 

" I ask how you propose to communicate 
with Colonel Hurst, and how long you think 
it will take ? " 

" I'll answer both those questions, so far 
as I can. My messenger will not arrive at 
Pebblebrook until Thursday, two days after 
you were expected ; and he will leave a note, 
telling your uncle to come on Saturday to 
the spot where you met us to-day, and fetch 
you. If he brings the needful, you'll be 
handed over in good condition." 

" I suppose you know that Colonel Hurst 
is not a rich man ? " she questioned. 

He puffed leisurely at his pipe for several 
moments before replying. 

Digitized by Google 

" I reckon I know his exact means a sight 
better than either of you two innocents : he 
can pay what I've asked ; but it'll pretty well 
see the bottom of his pile." With these 
words, he rose from the end of the table 
where he had been seated, and moved to the 

" I'll tell the butler to send up dinner," he 
remarked ; and disappeared. 

I cast myself down by the table, and hid 
my face. Claire commenced a restless 
pacing up and down the narrow limit of the 
cave. She tried the door, but it was locked, 
of course ; and then she peeped, with a 
shudder, into the inner cave. It was very 
lofty, but the hole at the top, which served 
to admit air and light, had nevertheless been 
securely barred with iron ; evidently this was 
not the first time it had been used as a 
prison. But the thing that disturbed us both 
most was the fact that it was not possible to 
secure the door in any way from the inside. 
We were interrupted in our reconnoitring by 
the entrance of two men with our trunks, 
which they carried into the inner room. 
When they had retreated, Claire turned to 
me. " Maidie, we must act, and at once." 

" It is not of the least use to say that to 
me, Claire ; the spirit is willing, but the flesh 
is quite, quite useless." 

'"Just so," s$ud she ; and, while she spoke, 
she knelt down, and began to unlock her 
trunk, and to search about among the things 
in it. " I am well aware that to ask you to 
help me try to escape, to scramble down 
steep rocks, or dare the revolvers of these 
men, would be the merest madness. We 
are two girls : humanly speaking, escape is 
not possible for us : and yet, I tell you, I do 
not mean to pass one single night in that 
horrible cave — so prepare." 

" But what on earth are you going to do ? " 
I cried. 

She turned to me : her lovely face crimson, 
but with the subtle glance of concealed fun in 
her eyes. 

" I'm going to use the woman's only 
weapon," said she. " This captain is a horrible 
person, but after all, he is a man, and men 
have been men since the times of Judith. Oh, 
don't look so horrified, my dearest ! I am 
not going to cut off his head with a supper- 
knife, and call on you to hold the basin ; but 
I am going to make him let us go—at all 
events, I am going to try It will be some- 
thing to stop the torment of thinking ; and, 
if I am not mistaken, he will not be an 
easy man to fool." 

A little hope rose in my heart as I looked 
Original from 


2 7 8 


at her, standing there in her loveliness, 
with dauntless, mischievous eyes. She had 
extracted her hand-mirror, her silver brushes, 
her soap, and her little toilet odds and ends ; 
and as she finished speaking, she and I 
moved our big trunk across the door, to 
prevent surprise, and began to make our- 
selves neat after our journey* 

"I like the plan," I said, hesitatingly, " for 
I believe you can do almost anything ■ and 
it is the only thing I could help you in at all/ 5 

" Just so/ 1 she broke in ; " you have plenty 
of sense, though you have so little courage ; 
ahd you can back me up, as no one else 

41 But — Claire," I diffidently suggested; 
"have you thought what you should do, 
supposing he — he — tried to make love to 
you ? T| 

Her lip curled divinely. " Am I not equal 
to that ? " was all she vouchsafed. I subsided 
into meek acquiescence ; and with that came 
a rap on the door to tell us that dinner was 

The outer room was full of men when we 
appeared ; and, from the number of plates 
on the bare plank table, it seemed they were 
all minded to sit down to dinner with us. 
Claire walked in like an empress/ She 
stopped short for a few minutes, while her 
eye went round the circle of villainous faces ; 
then she turned to the captain. 

" Am I expected to sit down 
ragamuffins ? " she demanded. 

"You must either sit down 
with them, or not at all," said 
he ; but, though the words 
were rude, his eyes, I could 
see, were caught, and dwelling 
on the beauty of her shining 

" Then it is not at 
all/' said she, with 
decision. "Come, 

We turned back to- 
wards the inner cave : 
but the captain stood 
before us. 

"Sorry, we ca 
allow you to use kn 
except in our presence ; 
you might hide them : 
so you must feed here, 
or not at all/ 7 

" Not at all, then," 
repeated she, com- 

" Hang it, I say 

you shall sit down ! " cried the man, 

She turned upon him the full, clear glance 
of her splendid eyes. 

" You say so 3 Who are you ? JJ she said, 
with cool insolence. 

There was a roar of laughter, 

" If you had really any control over these 
wild beasts/' she went on, " you would send 
them away until we had eaten ; but you are 
not even a capable villain : you are just a 
common thief, with no idea even of a thiePs 
honour. Faugh I I would sooner go hungry 
than be in the same room with you/' 

He was furiously angry* " At any rate, you 
shall do as I tell you/ 7 he said, coming nearer. 
She moved a step towards him, looking him 
straight in the eyes. 

"I will not," she said, and put her hands 
behind her. Then, as he wavered a moment, 
uncertain whether to touch her or not, she 
broke into a brilliant smile — a smile that 
seemed to stagger him like a blow. *' We 
will go into the next room tilt you have 
finished," she went on. " Then we will come 
and eat something — with your permission, 

Hand in hand we retreated, no man seeking 
to prevent us ; and, so far as we could hear, 

by Google 



Original from 



the meal was then partaken of in almost un- 
broken silence. In about half an hour the 
captain again rapped on the door t and 
called to us to come out, The others had 
all disappeared, and so had their dirty plates 
and empty glasses ■ the tinned beef and 
tinned fruit seemed appetizing enough to us, 
who were half-starving ; and we sat down 
forthwith, the captain leaning against the 
wall, and watching us. 

He spoke no word until we had finished, 
when he removed our plates, and handed 
them out, through the door, to somebody in 
waiting outside, In a minute or two he 
returned, with his gun, carefully fastened the 
door, and took his seat near it, with a rag 
and a ramrod, and set to work to clean the 
gun, with an evident inten- 
tion of doing so in silence, 

C In ire stood for some time 
motionless, watching him 
under her lowered eyelids ; 
then, with a glance at me, 
she went into the inner 
room, and I, of course, fol- 
lowed her, 

u The campaign is about 
to open/' she whispered, 
laughing, as she bent over 
her trunk, and took out a 
delicate morsel of fancy- 
work, all lovely, subdued 
colours, and gold thread. 

We accordingly returned 
to the society of our gaoler, 
who bent obstinately over 
his work, and took no 
notice of either our going 
or coming. 

Petulantly Claire flung 
herself upon the bench under 
the window, and began to 
stitch. But in a few minutes 
she let her silk drop with a 
sigh, and began to look 
about her, her roving gaze 
finally settling upon the cap- 
tain, with strange persistency. 
However, he did not look 
up, Then she tumbled out all her 
from her lap, on the floor, at his 
feet. He took no sort of notice, 
now I saiv just the ghost of a 
hover over Claire's bewitching mouth, and 
knew that she was really preparing to enjoy 

With a swoop she fell upon the embroidery 
silks, and swept them into her bag, which 
she tossed on the bench. Then she stretched 

herself with a luxurious languor, gave herself 
a little shake, and sat down on the edge of 
the table, her pretty feet, in her very best 
beaded shoes, swinging to and fro under the 
insensate log's nose. 

The cave faced due west — the sun was 
just low enough to shine straight in ; its 
radiance made Claire a perfect dream of 
beauty as she sat there, in all the sweetness of 
her girlhood, and the daintiness of her attire. 

" Captain," said she, softly. 

He did look up then, at last ; and I think 
she fairly dazzled his eyes. She was leaning 
a little forward, her eyes fixed upon him, 
mocking and mirthful. "Oh, captain," said 
she, " how I envy you I " 

He stared at her for a moment longer, 




by LiOOglC 

then gave a short grunt, expressive of con- 
tempt, and turned to his gun, with no other 

il I have always wanted to be a brigand," 
she went on ; " haven't I, Maidie ? ?t 

"You have," said I, promptly; "in fact, on 
the way here, you were just saying how nice 
it would be to be captured, when the captain 

" So nice and Bret Hartish," she went on, 


28o - 


dreamily. "But you know you ought to 
try and copy them in everything — the Bret 
Harte people, I mean : Jack Hamlyn, and so 
on. There is one thing in which you are not 
at all like the Californians he writes about ; 
I can see it at a glance. They all had one 
saving touch of sentiment — one weak place. 
Something that, when the crisis of the story 
comes, has survived principle, and almost 
does instead. Now you, obviously, have no 
weak place in your armour, have you ? " she 
asked, naively, looking him up and down, 
rather as if she expected to find the thing in 
his boots, or his bandolier. 

Then he spoke. " If I had such a thing 
about me, you wouldn't be able to strike it," 
he replied, grimly. " You, indeed ! You called 
me a common thief just now : I call you a 
common flirt ! Do you think to come it 
over me by making eyes ? I've danced with 
a dozen of your sort in New York." 

I was bursting with rage, that Claire should 
so expose herself to insult ; but she smiled 
sweetly, and never turned a hair. 

u You know very little about women — 
which is much in your favour," she said, 
earnestly. "If you did, you would know 
that a common flirt is never candid. If I 
were trying to get over you, as you call 
it, should I have begun by showing my 

" I tell you again, I know your tack," he 
said, sullenly, with an impatient movement of 
his shoulder, as if to break off the conversa- 
tion. " I see through you as if you were a 

She laughed out — her own little, sweet 
laugh, like the bubbling of a fountain. " If 
I am like a window in being easily seen 
through, I am very unlike one in another 
respect : I am not at all easy to shut up, as 
you will find," cried she, gleefully. " Come, 
don't be disagreeable. I thought you were 
only mercenary, with the excuse that being 
very hard up usually gives. Is there any 
need to be unkind as well ? " 

He blew down the barrel of his gun before 
replying. " How am I unkind ? " 

" I want to be amused," pouted Claire. 
" Here we are. It's your own doing ; we 
didn't ask you to bring us here ; but, as you 
have brought us, quite against our own will, 
you ought to help make the time pass 
pleasantly, don't you think so ? " 

"Seems to me, you can talk for the two of 
us," he remarked, ungraciously. 

" Oh, I'm quite willing to talk, if you'll 
answer me, and not abuse me," she said, 

by Google 

" I don't think it was I started the abuse," 
he said, shortly. 

"Well, let us do the thing handsomely," 
suggested Claire. " I'll say I'm sorry I 
called you a thief, if you like ; will you shake 

She held out her roseleaf of a hand, with 
a look that I only wish I could describe. 
His eyes rested on the little pink palm for a 
moment : then he looked at his own hand, 
oily and dark and hard : and under the 
brick-red of his skin, a hot flush came up. 

But Claire's hand was still outstretched : 
and, after a curiously long hesitation, he did 
take it in his own. It seemed to me as if he 
knew what magic power would lie in that 
soft, warm touch, and dreaded it. They 
shook hands gravely. 

" Now," cried Claire, " we shall get on : 
let's begin at names. Mine is Claire, and 
this is my sister Maidie : our surname is 
Hurst, as you know ; now, what is yours ? " 

He raised his face to hers, with a smile of 
very amused fun. " No, my lady," he said ; 
" not quite such an easy draw as that : you'd 
get on better if you didn't try to get on so 

She looked at him steadily and gravely. 
" Do you mean that you don't want us to 
know your name ? " 

" Seems so, doesn't it ? " 
She looked puzzled. " I don't see that it 
would matter, because, of course, it wouldn't 
be your real name," she said. " I only mean 
the name you go by. Don't they call you 
Sandy, or something like that ? " 

He coloured to the roots of his short 
light hair, and looked furious. " Look here, 
that's about enough of your cheek," he said. 
" It's my own fault for coming in here, that 
it is ; I'll go outside," and he rose to his 
feet, angrily snapping his gun. 

"Well," said Claire, smiling, and drawing 
a deep breath, as of one infinitely re- 
lieved ; " it has taken a time to drive 
you out. Good-bye. You need not hurry 

He turned at the door, and glared at her 
as she sat swaying to and fro in the warm 
sunlight, which made her shining hair into 
an aureole, and lit up her young form against 
the murky background of the cave. He 
went right up to her, with eyes blazing. 
Somehow, he was a finer-looking man than I 
had supposed. 

" Do you mean to say all that was done 
to get me to go away ? " 

She raised her eyes to his. " Why should 
I tell you what you know already ? You can 




see through me, you know, as if I were a 

He stood so long, drinking in the sight of 
her, that I wondered when he was going to 
move. There was the strangest look in his 

li Do you want me to go? " he said, at last. 

She took a deep breath, 

"Well, if you must know, I want 
you to stay," she said, mischievously. 
"I. should be nfraid of the others if 
you were not here ; but while you 
stay with us, 1 know they would not 
hurt us," 

" I believe," said he, slowly, " that 
you are one embodied lie, from the 
crown of your head to the sole of 
your shoes." 

" Not quite so transparent as you 
thought?" she suggested, slily. 

He turned slowly away from her 
as if it hurt him to tear himself free* 
tf Good-bye, I'm for the open air — 
no more witches* spells for me," he 
jerked out. 

t£ Oh, captain '" cried she, jumping 
from the table, and darting to him, as he stood 
by die door. u Do let us come outside ! Do 
let us have a little fresh air- I give my word 
for both of us, we will be as good as gold if 
we may come out into the sunshine. Say 
yes, and I will not torment you any more, 

He said nothing, but held the door open 
that she might go out ; and she, beckoning 
me to follow her, darted out into the da/ding 
tight of the mountain afternoon* 

Beyond the cave, the parapet of stone 
which edged the narrow terrace was much 
lower : and from thence, we had a magnifi- 
cent view, sheer down a precipice of giddy 
depth, across a canon, and beyond that, the 
heaving masses of hills stretching away into 
infinite distance, through air as pure and 
clear as crystal At this height the air was 
not so hot, and sweet and fresh as only 
mountain air can be. 

We sat down by the kind of natural 
balcony, to drink in the beauty and the 
wonder of it all; and the captain walked up 
and down for some time, like a sentry* 
Claire took not the least notice of him. 
Faithful to her promise not to molest him, 
she never turned her eyes in his direction, 
but seemed, even to me, utteily absorbed in 
the majesty of what she saw. 

But his eyes were almost constantly on 
her : he hovered nearer and nearer to where 
she sat ; and, at last, came to a standstill 
before her. 

VoL xiv.-36. 

gitized by L-OOgle 

Then she lifted up to him lashes wet with 
unshed tears. 

u I wonder," she faltered, u how you am 
be wicked in such a place as this ! " 

'he hovered nharfh to whkkk she sat. 

He laughed harshly. 

" Perhaps you think the beauties of Nature 
can keep men from feeling hungry?'* he 

"Hungry?" The tears overflowed, and 
lay on her cheeks, u Were you ever hungry ? M 
she asked. 

There was just the faintest possible accent 
on the "you." He sat down at her side, 

*' Going to recommend me to turn religious, 
eh ? ■' he sneered. 

She slowly shook her little head. 

u If these mountains and this holiness all 
about vou cannot persuade you, is it likely I 
could ?'" 

" 'Hain't likely '—there was the faintest 
suspicion of the Yankee drawl in his tones, 
and he looked at her sidelong, under his 
eyes; ** 'faint likely: but I wouldn't go so 
far as to say it would be impossible,'' 

Claires eyes sent mine one momentary, 
silent, flashing telegram— the sole word, 
" Triumph-* 1 

There was a wild-looking creeper, with red 




blossoms, clinging to the face of the rock. 
I rose and strayed away to gather 'some of 
the flowers. I went out of earshot, but the 
sound of their voices reached me, and I saw 
that they were in deep talk. I picked a 
quantity of red blossoms with deliberation 
— there was surely no need for hurry in 
such a place —and, when I had a handful, I 
sat down where I was, and arranged my 
spoils in little bunches, which I tied carefully 
with a bit of Claire's embroidery silk. 

The sun was low enough now to dip 
behind the stone edging of the natural balcony 
on which we stood. The two figures on the 
rock were in deep shadow ; but I could see 
that the man had flung off" his false indif- 
ference, and was leaning forward, with his 
arms on his knees, speaking earnestly. Pre- 
sently a sound broke the stillness — it sounded 
like the call of a bird, riot loud, but very 
clear — and suddenly, as in an opera, the 
vacant stage was all alive with actors. From 
down the rock path came two men with trays 
of plates and tin mugs, and from every side 
the band assembled, at the welcome call to 
supper. I saw Claire rise, and move to the 
cave door, and I joined her. The captain 
stood aside to let us pass in, and we went 
together into our private apartment. 

When the door was shut, Claire just looked 
at me, and nodded, but did not speak, for 
how could we tell whether we could be over- 
heard ? But, to my amazement, she bent 
over her trunk and began to hunt out a white 
evening gown. 

" Claire ! " I uttered, in absolute amaze- 

" It is so hot in this place," mumbled she, 
with her red face half hidden among her 

It was not long before the summons came 
for us to eat our own supper ; and, as my 
sister emerged into the light of the two flaring 
petroleum lamps, I saw an instant look of 
suspicion cross the captain's face. " How 
silly she is," I thought. " She will undo all 
the good she has done." 

Indeed, we partook of our meal in almost 
unbroken silence, as if the events of the 
sunset had been a dream ; but Claire seemed 
quite tranquil and unmoved. She had 
brought in her guitar with her, and, when we 
had finished, she took it in her hand, and 
went up to the morosely silent man in the 

" May we go out again ? " she asked, look- 
ing up in his face. 

" Is that your game ? To get off in the 
dark ? " he asked. 

Digitized by LiOOQLC 

" In a white muslin gown ? It would be 
a very convenient thing to escape in, would 
it not?" she asked, tantalizingly. "This 
little flutter of white among the rocks would 
be the best of marks for your revolver, don't 
you think so ? " 

I saw him wince, but, as before, he opened 
the door, and we went out. 

What a night! There was no moon, but 
the whole sapphire vault above us fairly scin- 
tillated with stars, and their vague light 
silvered over the distant mountain-tops with 
magic radiance. We all three stood for a 
while in silence, tense and full, gazing at the 

Then Claire's soft voice was heard. 
" Pebblebrook lies over there, I suppose," 
raising a white arm, and pointing across the 
mountains, " Poor Uncle Will," she sighed ; 
" I am so glad he is sleeping in peace to- 
night, not knowing of our danger." She 
turned her flower-like face up to him, spark- 
ling with laughter, and yet tearful. " He 
loves me better than anything else in the 
world," she said. " Our mother was the 
woman he loved, and he thinks I am exactly 
like her : you would have made the ransom 
bigger if you had known that, wouldn't 

He gave a sharp sound, as if she had hurt 
him. " Confound the ransom ! " he growled. 

"Oh, don't say that. Think of the joy 
to be free again, the delight of springing into 
Uncle Will's arms, after all the horror, all 
the shame of this," whispered she. " All 
my life that I have lived feels as if it were 
something that happened in another world, 
another life ! So far away !— Oh "'— she broke 
into piteous tears, stretching out her hands 
to the distance—" I cannot bear it ! — Oh, 
Uncle Will, come, come to us, and take us 
home ! " 

She slipped to her knees, hiding her face 
in her arms, and shook with sobs. The 
captain stood over her, motionless ; his face, 
in the starlight, smote my heart with pity. 
Once he stooped, and I thought he 'was 
going to take her in his arms ; but all he did 
was to noiselessly kiss a ring of her bright 
hair. He thought I was not looking. 

After a few minutes' weeping, she sprang 
to her feet again, and dashed away the tears. 

" What's the use of crying ? " cried she, 
gaily. " Come, captain, you have been kind, 
letting us come out into this blessed starlight, 
you deserve a reward. Til sing to you." 

So she caught up her guitar, and sang. 
First of all, some gay little modern ballads, 
and then some Jacobite songs. As she sang, 




by degrees an audience assembled : from the 
darkness all around, the men crept out, and 
when she sang " Bonny Charlie's Now Awa'," 
there was a distinct attempt to join in the 

And then, suddenly, she struck up some 

1 BY UUrKM':-; Ati /lUDJKNCK ASS1 'I 1. 1 ,KD, 

unmistakable banjo chords, and sang "The 
Old Folks at Home/ 1 

'Way down upon I he Suwannee Ribber. 

It was marvellously clever of her. If there 
was anything on earth that would have gone 
to the hearts of those poor riff-raff of 
humanity, it was the homely, natural senti- 
ment of those artless lines. The chorus 
came strong and clear to the first verse ; to 
the second, it faltered ; and to the third there 
was no response, except one or two signifi- 
cant sniffs, To sit in an air so charged with 
emotion is infectious ; Claire felt her own 
voice wavering, I helped her bravely for 
a while, until the passion of our loneliness 
and danger struck upon my heart— I, too, 
began to weep, and then Claire flung down 
her guitar, sprang up, and darted into the 

There was a momentary lull, then a round 
of applause, and many a hoarse voice shouted 
" Bravo ! n 

The captain rose from where he had been 
seated, close to the singer, and deliberately 


walked into the cave after her. I, too, 
followed : but I did not go in. 

I saw him go up to her, where she sat by 
the table , her white arms flung out across it, 
her shoulders shaken. He stood by her in- 
silence for as long as he could bear it> and 
then gave vent to a cry : (t Don't ! " 

"I can't help it," she sobbed ; u it h so 
dreadful. I am so unhappy, and so afraid 1 

Go away ! Why are 
you here, if you 
don't like to face the 
misery you have 
caused ? n 

I saw him turn away, 
and walk up and down 
twice or thrice. Then 
he came to the door 
and shut it ; he had 
forgotten me, as 
though I never 
existed ; but there was 
a crack in the shutter 
of the window, and 
when I had found it, 
he was kneeling at my 
shter*s feet. 

It sent an odd 
thrill through me to 
see his face, I had 
anticipated that Claire 
would fascinate him, 
but not that she would 
ennoble him, The 
birth of a soul was in 
the formerly dull, meaningless eyes, 

I saw Claire look at him, and I felt sure, 
from her expression, that she too had not 
anticipated love, but only passion. Yet there 
was no hint of relenting in her beautiful eyes. 
He leaned his arm upon the table, his head 
on his hand, and talked : it was maddening not 
to hear what he said. No human being could 
have been more respectful, more reverent ; 
he looked as if he almost worshipped her. T 
waited, out there in the chilly night, for quite 
half an hour, I should think ; and then I 
knocked at the door. 

There was a somewhat long delay before it 
was opened, but, as I entered, there was no 
sign of emotion on either face. Claire was 
standing by the table : and she took my hand, 
holding the other to the captain. "Good- 
night," she said. 

He replied as quietly, " Good-night. JJ 
So she had actually failed, and we were to 
pass a night, after all, in the horrible, dark cave. 
I dared not say a word of all this, because 

of Claire's face* 

Original from 





** You must go to bed in the dark," said the 
captain, roughly. " We can't allow lights. w 

4i We are not afraid of [he dark/ 7 returned 
Claire, superbly. 

I glanced round, and saw that one of the 
hand was present, standing in the doorway, 
Claire and I withdrew to the dank blackness 
of our sleeping apartment. 

" We will not undress," said she, in a low 

u I should think not," I answered, in horror, 

" Help me, Maidie, change this dress for a 
thick one, and to put the largest trunk against 
the door, and the others on the top of it/ 1 

I could hear her, in the pitch dark, care- 
fully replacing things we had taken out of the 
boxes, and locking them up. Then, with 
great difficulty, we dragged the heaviest into 
position, and piled the others upon it, Then 
we said our prayers, and lay down ; but, 
after a few minutes, I heard Claire again 
softly moving about. 

If What are yon doing ? I? I asked ? cautiously. 

"Putting my valuables where I can find 
them easily," she replied. "Go to sleep, 
Maidie." I was so tired that I obeyed 
almost at once. 

When someone laid a hand on my shoulder 
and shook me awake, T almost screamed, 
hut controlled myself by a great effort. 

Digitized by OOOglC 

Lf It is only. Claire/' whispered 
she. " Be quite quiet, darling — 
we are going to be saved ; but our 
lives depend on you ; I may 
trust you, little sister?" 

" Yes, Claire/' I answered, 

11 Look up, then/* she mur- 
mured. I did. The bars were 
gone from the hole in the roof, 
and I could see dimly in the 
starlight the outline of a man's 
head and shoulders. 

" Now, Maidie, obedience, 
prompt and silent. I am going 
to help you scramble up to the 
top of our trunks. There will be 
a noose of rope— put it round 
you so that you sit in it like a 
swing, and hold tight/' 

I did exactly as I was bid, and 
was not in the least alarmed when 
I was safely drawn up, and saw 
the square face of the captain, 
who in the lowest of whispers 
bade me lie flat down. I did 
so, and then Claire was drawn 
up. No words passed, but the 
captain too lay down flat, and 
began to crawl along the rocks^ we following 
as best we could. It was very tiring work, 
and I was beginning to feel that I could not 
bear much more, when we crawled into the 
entrance of a tunnel, and, after going a short 
way along it, halted, and resumed our 
upright position* 

u I dare not have a light, even here," I 
heard our guide whisper to Claire, " Are 
you very tired ; shall I carry you— again?" 

That "again " revealed to me the fact that 
the captain must have carried Claire for at 
least some part of our blindfold journey this 

" Xo, thanks," she at once replied. " Carry 
the little one: she is not as strung as I." 

But I declined " toting " this time, since my 
eyes were open, and we were going down -hill- 
In utter darkness we went on and on for 
an hour. Then we had to halt while he 
struck a match, for we had reached a great 
cave, and could not cross it in safety without 
a light I saw his face, all transfigured, as 
the match flickered over it, and knew that, to 
him, this journey was like the path to Paradise. 
Well ! The nature of that escape need 
not be dwelt upon. We could not linger, 
for every moment was precious, and the way 
was lon^ and difficult When we came out 


the tunneL :wei walked through rocky 




galleries that were like a maze — I wondered 
how any human being could possibly find 
his way, otic was so exactly like another. 
As we pressed on, the dawn began to break, 
and the stars grew pale ; and at last, in the 
fast increasing, pallid light of earliest morn- 
ing, we came out upon a road, and there 
stood our own carriage, and our brave little 
horses, and Wallis motionless on the box. 

Claire uttered a little cry of gladness, but 
the captain turned his face away, and looked 
up :it the limpid heavens. 

" You have not a moment to lose," he said. 

My sister paused, hesitating for a moment, 
and th^n went up to him : in her hand was a 
little bag, 

**You said," she whispered, "you said — 
that you were sometimes —hungry, I — dor/t 
feel as if I could bear that. There is nothing 
of very great value here, but I should like 
you to — it would comfort me if you would f1 
—she could not finish the sentence. His 
reproachful eyes tied her tongue. 

"Oh — don't apologize," he said. "I know 
I have deserved that, and worse ; but, you 
see— the former things are passed away. How- 
ever, there is one thing I should like to have." 

It was the little bunch of red flowers I 
had tied for her, and which she had worn in 
her white evening gown. He held them in 
his hand. " You let them fall/* he said, "but 
I will not keep them unless you say I may. 71 

" Oh ! " was all she said ; but I saw 

the tears start as she turned 

Two minutes afterwards 
we were free, and the morn- 
ing sun illumined our joyous 
faces as the horses dashed 

It wa* three weeks later, 
and we sat on the piazza of 
Uncle Wills pretty bunga- 
low, lazily swaying in our 
hammocks in the warm air. 

Claire had been made a 
great heroine among all my 
uncles friends. Her way of 
relating our adventure was 
most attractively funny, 
and invariably caused the 
greatest mirth among her 
audience. Yet there were 
times when I thought she 
felt a little guilty, a little 
remorseful, and ill at ease. 

11 Do you remember Leigh- 
ton's picture of ' Cymon and 
Iphigenia ' ? " she asked me 



this afternoon, suddenly, out of the silence 
and sleepy comfort of the hammock. 

"Yes — I think so; he was an idiot who 
found a soul on gazing at a King's daughter 
asleep, was he not ? n 

" Yes; that was it. Do you know, Maidie, 
whenever I think of the captain, I think of 
that picture too ? " 

Her voice sounded depressed 

" But you saved our lives, and WalUs's 
too/ 5 I urged, in consolatory tones, though 
she had not said in so many words that she 
felt in need of consolation. 

4: Well, I don't know about lives," said she, 
more cheerfully ; " but I suppose I saved 
Uncle Will from financial ruin, which is 
worth doing, isn't it ? " 

At which point Chloe, our black waiting- 
maid, came out on the piazza with the news 
that there was a gentleman wishing to see 
the young ladies* 

** Is it Mr. Templeton or Mr. Khmdell? 75 
asked Claire, who, of course, had her court 
already at Pebble brooL 

No, it was nobody known to Chloe, but 
he had given her his card. On the card was 
written "John Ruthveiv' 

We were quite mystified. "Are you sure 
he is a gentleman, Chloe ? " asked Claire. 

" Oh, missee, sartain for sure ; and, oh s my ! 
Here f s he done come out on the piazza ! 3} 

Of course, it was the captain. As soon 
as I saw him, I felt as if I had expected it 
every moment. But he was much changed. 
He was dressed like a 
gentleman ; but that was 
not the only difference 
in him. 

As was natural, he 

came up to Claire as if 

I had not been there ; 



a me 


" iCA Or^ilfa , f i fra i hT 



cheeks, sprang from the hammock, and gave 
him her hand. There was a long pause after 
their greeting, and then she coldly asked him 
to sit down. I knew the consternation she 
must be feeling. This was an unlooked-for 
development. A thief — an outlaw ! What 
would Uncle Will say ? The pressing con- 
cern of the moment was to get him to go. 

She remained standing by the little table 
on which lay a guitar— not her own, which, 
of course, had been left behind. He, too, 
stood, and seemed to be filling his soul with 
the sight of her. 

At last she cleared her throat, and spoke : 
" I am afraid you run some risk, Mr. Ruthven, 
in letting yourself be seen, do you not ? " 

" What does that matter ? " said this 
go-ahead suitor. 

" If you think it is of no consequence, of 
course " — she made a little gesture with her 
hands. " But after your risking so much for 
us, we should be sorry for you to get into 
trouble. However, I am glad to have this 
chance of thanking you. My uncle will be 
in soon — I feel sure he would like " 

"You know I did not come to see him — 
nor to be thanked." 

She raised her brows, as though to say, 
" What, then, could be your motive ? " The 
hardness of fear was in her face ; evidently 
she saw that she must be cruel, and wished 
to get it over. 

" Your visit is opportune from another 
reason," she went on, with a nervous laugh. 
"It enables me to apologize for my — what 
shall we call it? Stratagem is not a nice 
word — but you would see afterwards that it 
was inevitable." 

He was long silent. Heaven knows what 
he had expected ; but not this, evidently. 
He did not seem to understand. 

" Your stratagem ? " he said, at last. 

" My little attempt to get on your blind 
side ! " she said, smiling up at him beseech- 
ingly. "I — I did not know what good 
feeling you had when I began " 

Something in his face broke off her lame 

" When you began -" he echoed. 

She laughed defiantly, and, turning, let 
herself down into a deck chair. 

" Yes/' she said, with her usual audacity, 
but with a most unusual nervousness behind 
it. " When I began to try and make a fool 
of you." 

I never saw a man stand so horribly still. 
I wished he would speak, even if it were 
only to swear. At last 

"Then you deliberately made a fool of 

by Google 

me ? " he said, in tones devoid of any kind 
of feeling. 

I knew Claire felt as if she were killing a 
lamb for dinner, and as if the only hope was 
to get it dead as quickly as possible. 

" All is fair in war, you know," she said, 
not looking at him. " I had to save Maidie 
and myself by any means there were." 

He made one step towards her. 

" You kissed me " 

She was at bay then, and she rose and 
faced him. 

" It was my last card : I played it, as you 
would say, for all it was worth." 

There fell on the shady piazza such a 
silence as lets one feel how powerless words 
are. In the throbbing stillness our hearts 
were all so full that it seemed as if some 
kind of cry must go up from them ; but there 
was only the cooing of the stock-doves and 
the hum of the flies. It was like a death- 
bed, and I have sometimes thought since 
that it was one, if we had but known. 

At last the captain took up his hat He 
bowed to Claire, but did not offer her his 
hand. Then he turned to go, and I saw his 
face. When his eyes fell on me, he came 
to the side of my hammock. 

" Good-bye, little one," said he, so kindly, 
though I could see that it was all he could 
do to say those three words. Then he went 

Said my uncle, when he came in that 
night : — 

" I heard a bit of good news to-day. 
There was such a nice chap, named Jack 
Ruthven, down at the mines by Silverro, and 
he got mixed up in a stabbing affray, bolted, 
and was outlawed. I hear to-day that the 
beast who really did it has confessed, so 
Ruthven's name is clear : and one of my 
hands, who knows him by sight, says he saw 
him down town this afternoon. I've been to 
the hotel, though, to see if I could get him 
to come up and dine ; but he hasn't been 
there at all. I left a message for him. A 
capital good fellow he was, only such a devil 
of a temper." 

That night I woke up, and heard Claire 
sobbing as if her heart would break. 

" Claire," said I, sitting up, " I think it's 
ridiculous ! You were not to blame — nearly 
as much as a gentleman who associated him- 
self with scoundrels to rob women." 

" It isn't that— it isn't that ! " she sobbed ; 
"it is that I — I — am afraid that really, deep 
down, I cared for him all the time ! " 

" Pin afraid it wouldn't be very easy to 
make him believe that now," I answered, sadly. 

Original from 


Glimpses of Nature* 

By Grant Allen, 

HE lion, we all know, is the 
king of beasts ; a Tippoo 
S.ihib of the desert, he treats 
his subjects with the simple 
and unaffected cruelty of an 
Oriental monarch. The tiger 
is also a somewhat ruthless animal ; he 
prefers to eat his dinner living* But for 
sheer ferocity and lu^t of Mood, perhaps no 
creature on earth can equal that uncanny 
brute, the common garden spider He is 
small, but he is savage. I Jons and tigers 
are credited at least with the domestic 
virtues ; if we object to the king of beasts 
that (as Thcrsites said of Agamemnon) he 
devours his people, we may be told in extenua- 


tion that, like Charles I. t he is a good husband 
and a model father. No such plea can be 
urged in mitigation of the misdeeds of tl at 
bloodthirsty wretch, the female spider* Not 
only does this Messalina among small dter 

by Google 

poison, and then eat, her prey, but she also 
often kills and makes a meal upon her own 
lawful spouse, the father of her children, In 
selecting a garden spider of my acquaintance, 
therefore, as a theme for a short biography, I 
do not desire to hold her up to the young, 
the gay, the giddy, and the thoughtless as a 
pattern for imitation. She does not point a 
moral with the ant. On the contrary, she 
must rank with Sem Irani is and the famous 
queen who dwelt in the 'lour de N r esle as a 
shining example of abandoned and shameless 

Spiders are not all alike. They are of 
many kinds, and of various families. So I 
shall begin by remarking that Rosalind, the 
particular lady whose 
portrait I have here 
presented to you in 
words, and whose life- 
history my colleague, 
Mr. Enock, has drawn 
for you from nature, 
belongs to the most familiar race of her kind, 
the true garden spider, which constructs the 
best -known and most perfect examples of 
regular geometrical webs. We called her 
Rosalind because she was a maiden of hunt- 
ing proclivities, who lived under the green- 
wood in our own particular Forest of Arden. 
But her ways were not lovable. She killed 
flies in a fashion that would have brought up 
fresh tears in the eyes of Jacques : and she 
devoured her Orlando with all the callous 
ferocity of a South Sea Islander. 

I will begin at the beginning with my 
eight -legged friend's biography. Rosalind 
was hatched in spring from a cosy cocoon or 
ball of eggs deposited by her affectionate, but 
otherwise cruel, mamma in the preceding 
October. She was one of a large family — 
say, seven or eight hundred. The principles 
of Malt bus are unknown in spiderdom. The 
cocoon was composed of yellowish silk, and 
attached, as the first illustration shows you 
(No. i ), to the under side of a piece of trellis- 
work, against a cottage wall, partly overgrown 
with ivy. Within this snug abode the tiny 
eggs, each wrapped in its own internal cover- 
let, escaped the cold of winter, and hatched 
out in early spring with the first burst of warm 
sunshine* It was a bright May morning when 
they ventured abroad. The tiny spiders, 
just freed from their shell, with its outer 
great coat > let themselves down by short webs 
Original from 




to an ivy-leaf below, where they clustered for 
a while, after the queer fashion of their 
species, in a sort of close-knit creche or com- 
munal nursery. Gathering together in a 
compact ball or mass, like bees when they 
swarm, the wee creatures began by spinning 
in common a covering of thin silk, in whose 
midst they lay rolled up in an apparently 
inextricable tangle of legs and bodies. That 
is the universal fashion of young spiders of 
this kind. But if you touch them with a 
straw, a strange commotion takes place all at 
once in the crowded home, The mass 
unrolls itself. The six or eight hundred 
small beasts within wake all together to a 
sense of their responsibilities; the ball, 
which looks at first like a cherry-stone, 
divides as if by magic 
into so many eager and 
frightened animals ; and 
the spider) ings disperse 
like the nations at Babel, 
Each goes his or her 
own way helter-skelter, 
in search of a suitable 
place to commence opera- 
tions as a general fly- 
catcher ; and in two 
minutes the space around 
is fairly colonized by 
spiders, who set their 
snares at once with ex- 
emplary industry. I am 
glad to be able to give 
them credit for the one 
good quality they do 
really possess ; though I 
am aware that in their 
case industry is often 
only another name for 
consummate greediness. 

From the general 
gathering of the clan in which our Rosa- 
lind thus took part she was rudely roused 
by the touch of such a straw ; and, 
emerging in haste into the open world, the 
great, cruel world, amidst whose temptations 
henceforth she was to earn her dishonest 
livelihood, she cast about her for a favouring 
breeze to waft her first-spun threads to some 
lucky position. It was a delicate operation. 
Balancing herself with her eight legs on the 
edge of an ivy-leaf beside her native corner 
(as you see her graphically represented it! 
No. 2), she span, to begin with, a few short 
ends of silk, which she exposed to a passing 
current of air by tilting her back up in her 
most persuasive manner. Where the silk 
came from, and how she managed to spin 

it, we will inquire hereafter ; for the moment, 
it must suffice to say that the wind 
was polite enough to fall in with her 
wishes, and to waft one of her threads to a 
secure position. There it gummed itself 
automatically by its own stickiness. Mr, 
Enock, who timed her, reports the interval 
she took in fixing this first thread as thirty- 
six seconds. The cable itself was drawn 
out from Rosalindas spinnerets by the force 
of the wind, as she stood with her head 
down and her body protruding ; in little 
more than half a minute she was climbing 
up a line 15m, long, which had caught and 
glued itself on the edge of a jasmine leaf. 
For the silk is sticky and viscid, like the glue 
of a mistletoe, when first produced ; it only 
hardens as it dries, so 
that it can be readily 
moored in its first state 
to whatever it touches. 
You may compare it in 
this respect to hot seal- 

ing-wax, or to 

the early 


by Google 

pulled stage in 

In No. 3, again, we 
see Rosalind's first fnare, 
constructed neatly, with 
the usual architectural 
and geometrical skill of 
her race, between the 
twigs of the jasmine bush. 
In the centre she sits, as 
is her wont, head down- 
ward. The method of 
making this snare is so 
interesting and curious, 
however, that I shall 
describe it at some 
length, with needful ex- 
Rosalind began by letting the wind fix an 
original base thread, pretty much by accident. 
As soon as she was satisfied with the lie of 
this, she formed a few others about it 
irregularly in a rough pentagon, as you see 
in the outer part of the web, merely to serve 
as a scaffolding for her future operations. 
But as soon as she had formed a careless 
angular figure all round the sphere of her 
projected snare, she let down a perpendicular 
thread from the top of her base, through the 
centre of her predestined home, and fastened 
it off at the bottom by gliding down it as she 
span it. Then, walking up this first ray-line 
again, she set to work once more a little 
to the right, spinning again as she walked, 
and fastened a second ray from the centre of 

Original from 




the first to one of her outer cables. Next, 
time after time, she walked back to the 
centre, ran along the last ray made, trailing a 
thread as she went, and fastened each new line 
taut to one of the outer scaffoldings. So at 


last she had formed a regular set of rays like 
the spokes of a wheel, but as yet without 
any spiral connecting threads or mesh-like 
cross-pieces* The rays of this first frame- 
work were stout and thick, composed of 
several distinct strands, but very little viscid \ 
they were built up of many threads each, in 
a manner to be hereafter described ; and 
they hardened quickly on exposure to the 
air, for they were intended mainly to serve 
as beams, not as nets or insect catchers, 

Her ground-plan being thus complete, 
Rosalind next proceeded with great delibera- 
tion to add the meshes of the web {which 
are the practical insect-catchers) by connect- 
ing the rays with the spiral network, In 
doing this, she followed a regular method* 
Beginning at the centre, she fastened a 
thinner cord to one of the spokes, and 
worked slowly outward, fixing the line to 
each ray as she went by the aid of her hind 
legs, which are almost hand like. Then, 
reversing the process, she fastened another 
thread to one of the outer cables, and carried 
it hack through the spokes in a similar spiral 
to the hub or centre. These two spiral 
threads are the ones which she specially 

YoL xfo.-37 


designed for catching her prey ; they are 
thinner than the spokes, but are closely 
studded through all their length with tiny 
drops of sticky stuff like bird-lime, admirably 
adapted for snaring insects. You can see 
tht: drops, if you look close, even with the 
naked eye ; and they are very clearly visible 
by the aid of a pocket-lens. 

How is the web itself manufactured and 
produced ? What is its raw material ? Well, 
to answer that question I must give you here 
some brief description of the personal appear- 
ance of Rosalind and her sisters. The garden 
spider, you know (and as you can see her in 
No. 6), is a great, soft, eight-legged creature, 
about half an inch long, though her com- 
paratively insignificant husband is very much 
smaller and less conspicuous. She consists, 
in the main, of two parts, the foremost of 
which, though it rejoices in the scientific 
title of the cephalothorax (science is 
always so careful to give things nice easy 
names while it is about it !) t may be more 
popularly described for most practical pur- 
poses as the head ; and to this large 
compound head are attached the eight long- 
jointed, hairy legs, with the muscles that 
move them. The other half of the spider 
consists of the abdomen or stomach, a soft, 
round bag, quaintly marked like a quail's 
head, and very squashy in appearance. With 
this last part of herself, the garden spider 
spins her snare or web out of the manu- 
factured material of her own body. She 
spins it of her own digested contents. And 
as she has frequently to mend the web after 
various mishaps, which occur in the natural 
course of business— as when it is broken by 
the wJnd, blushed against by passers-by, or 
torn and mangled by a big fly or wasp — you 
can readily understand that she must eat in 
proportion ; which is, no doubt, the true 
cause of her almost incredible voracity. In 
point of fact, a healthy female spider spends 
all her time in catching prey and eating it* 

In No* 4 we have a greatly enlarged back 
view ot the spinnerets from which the threads 
are produced, and a still more enlarged side- 
view below of the separate litile ducts from 
which the component strands issue. Accord- 
ing to circumstances, she makes her threads 
simple or compound. The sticky fluid of 
which they are formed is secreted by powerful 
glands in the abdomen ; it is then squeezed 
out through numerous minute tubes, of 
different calibres, and hardens in most cases 
when exposed to the air, though the spiral 
threads with, the insect-catching drops on 
them mairiJfiiiinaJ^pOI^Sscid nature much 


2 9 ° 


details of some 
in Rosalind's 


longer, so as to gum the flies down, rather 
than entangle them in meshes, as with the 
common house spider. 

No. 5 shows us further 
other interesting features 
anatomy. The upper figure 
represents three distinct 
varieties of the viscid 
threads, each with its own 
peculiar type of beads, 
adapted for catching larger 
or smaller insects. Every 
kind has its own heads 
spread for it. The flies 
get entangled in these, 
according to their size ; 
and then, tearing the web 
to free themselves, find 
the coils only double round 
their legs and bodies. 

But the spider does not 
content herself with merely 
catching insects; she 
poisons them as well. We 
had not watched Rosalind 
long in her chosen lair 
before we discovered that 
she did not live in her 
geometrical web ; that was 
merely her h u n t i ng - n e t ; 
her private residence con- 
sisted of a snug little cell 


I ™*J" , \4'*t?*OT u poison- FANCJS, 



or nest, under shelter of a rose- leaf, at a few 
inches* distance from the centre c f the snare ; 
and in this quiet home it was her habit to rest 
unseen, under cover of the shady leaf, until 
prey came within measurable distance of her 
sphere of practical politics. But she kept up 
communications with the seat of war, From 
the centre of the snare to the nest she had 
stretched a stout, thick line, along which sht 
could run easily on the slightest indication 
of a prospective victim looming up in the 
background. Moreover, this cable or thread 
seemed to be connected by its different strands 
with various parts of the snare ; at any rate, 
it acted as a telegraphic communicator 
between the home, strictly so-called, and the 
place of business. For Rosalind used always 
to recline at her ease with one hand-like claw 
placed steadily on the line of communication; 
thus seated, she would watch with cat-like 
stealth for any chance of a victim. The 
moment a fly touched the snare, however 
lightly, it would set up a slight tremor of 
movement in the indicating thread ; and, 
quick as lightning, informed by touch of its 
whereabouts, out Rosalind would dart, ready 
to go straight to the spot and suck that luck- 
less creature's life-blood, 

Besides, the bigger the fly or bee, the 
harder it was likely to struggle ; and Rosalind 
noted well, before starting, the comparative 
extent to which the line was convulsed, and 
governed herself accord- 
ingly. If a big bumble-bee 
or wasp fell perad venture 
into her coils, he plunged 
exceedingly ; and Rosa- 
lind, prudently aware oi 
the expected sting, ap- 
proached the dangerous 
prey with marked reserve 
and caution- But when it 
was only a harmless small 
fly that struggled in the 
net, she rushed forth from 
her lair as bold as brass, 
seized the body with claws 
and jaws, and sucked the 
poor thing dry in les£ than 
a minute. Then she flung 
away its empty skin, or 
cut it contemptuously out 
of the web it had injured, 
A glance at the second 
figure in No. 5 will show 
how admirably the spider's 
foot is adapted for all these 
various purposes. Adap- 
lirftrtiftfeinpouid hardly go 




further. The spider has claws with which she 
can hold her web like a hand ; and she has 
also sharp nails which aid her not a little in 
manipulating her prey and her web. But she 
has more than all these : the claws themselves, 
you will note, are provided with toothed 
or comb-like edges ; and these curious saw- 
teeth are useful to the spider both in 
arranging her webs, in weaving them tight or 
loose, and in feeling the line of communica- 
tion, when at rest, for indications of a 
captured insect. If you remember that the 
spider has no less than eight legs, each some- 
what differently provided with special claws 
and combs, you will understand how formid- 
able a beast she really is to creatures of her 
own size or smaller. 

But beneath the foot in No. 5 are repre- 
sented those still more terrible organs, the 
mouth and poison fang. The face is shown, end 
on — a full-face portrait ; and the little knobs 
above are the eight sharp eyes with which 
the spider looks out for its prey when 
captured. Below lie the jaws, with their two 
movable poison fangs, one of which is open, 
while the other is folded back into its groove 
or receptacle like a kitten's claw. This 
poison fang is supplied with venom from a 
gland in the head. When the spider catches 
an insect and desires to eat him at once (as 
she generally does if he is not very large) 
she poisons him outright, and proceeds to 
devour him. So she often does with a wasp 
or other dangerous insect. But if she wishes 
to preserve him for future use, she quietly 
envelops him in a network of web, and 
keeps him in durance vile, as I shall 
show you later — a prisoner awaiting his turn 
to be killed and eaten. Taking her as a 
whole, therefore, the mother spider is about 
as fiercely equipped a beast as creation can 
produce : a monster armed like the tiger and 
cobra combined ; with the claws of a lion 
and the poison fangs of a serpent ; both 
which she supplements by a treacherous 
snare, itself a union of the net and the bird- 
lime trap. No wonder with such an armoury 
that she has prospered exceedingly in the 
struggle for existence. And, indeed, you will 
find garden spiders wherever you go. They 
are one of the most successful types in 

We watched our Rosalind closely through 
the whole of a season. It was a curious 
drama of blood and treachery. For the 
most part she lay concealed like a secret 
assassin in her nest behind the rose-leaf, 
seldom spreading her net in the sight of the 
victim ; but sometimes, assuming the rdle of 

highway robber, she would Loldly rest in the 
very centre of her snare, with her ,head 
downward, waiting for the approach of 
casual small insects. At such times, we 
noticed the larger and more intelligent flies 
usually gave her a wide berth ; she seldom 
caught bluebottles or bees on these occasions 
of open display ; but tiny gnats and midges, 
less careful or less wise, would get entangled 
in her web, and at these she would rush out 
viciously, sucking them dry then and there, 
and rejecting their empty skeletons with lordly 
unconcern. Her appetite was unbounded ; 
but she grew so quick, she had so often to 
remake or repair her broken snare, and she 
was laying by so constantly for her maternal 
functions and her eight hundred eggs, that 
this did not surprise us. The web, indeed, 
was often torn by wasps or large flies out of 
all recognition ; and at other times it was 
destroyed by the housemaid or the gardener. 
On an average, I should say, Rosalind had 
to rebuild the whole concern about once in 
three days ; and as she was obliged to 
spin it all out of her own body, this came 
very expensive. We noticed, however, 
that she was economically minded, for she 
wasted no web; I think she ate up all 
loose ends or remnants : and the central 
portion, where she occasionally reposed on 
the look-out for prey, was free from the 
viscid beads which elsewhere adorned the 
cross-pieces. You see, this part of the 
structure was of comparatively small service 
as a snare, while the sticky stuff would have 
interfered with her own freedom of move- 
ment. She usually avoided the beaded 
spiral, and only ran along the stouter spokes 
or cables. 

But the most wonderful scene of all was 
witnessed when Rosalind found in her net a 
large wasp or a blow-fly. On such occasions, 
she was generally resting in her nest under 
the rose-leaf, with one foot held firmly on the 
cord of communication. If a light pull only 
came, she would rush wildly forth, and seize 
in a frenzy the small fly that caused it. She 
seemed as if drunk with lust of carnage. But 
when the strength of the pull showed her 
that a large bee or wasp was struggling in 
the web, she would act in various ways 
according to the needs of the moment. 
Wasps she approached, we noticed, with 
considerable fear ; she knew their dangerous 
nature. But she was seldom afraid, even so, 
of tackling them ; though at times, if a very 
large and truculent specimen got entangled in 
the web, she seemed to despair of landing 
him. In such cases, she would cut him 




out bodily, by biting the threads, and let 
hi in drop at once, thankful, like Dogberry, 
to be rid of a knave. A moderate-sized 
wasp, however, she would rush out and 
attack in that frenzy of rage and hunger, 
a sort of mad, blind rage, which one often 
notices in fierce carnivorous animals. 
She would begin her onslaught near the 
victim's head, avoiding his sting, and 
envelop him in web, till his wings were 
pinioned ; then she would cautiously ap- 
proach nearer and nearer to the tail, but give 
the actual sting a wide berth till the con- 
clusion of operations, The wasp, meanwhile, 

at once to envelop him. In this case, how- 
ever, her intention is not to devour him on 
the spot ; she means to store her larder with 
provisions for future use, and is as careless as 
ever of the feelings of her victim. No. 7 shows 
with what bands she proceeds to swathe 
him. She catches him firmly as fast as she 
can, so as to prevent his furious struggles from 
unnecessarily destroying her precious web ; 
then she trundles and bundles him rapidly in 
a sort of treadmill or merry-go-round, with 
her front pair of legs ; holds on to the web 
and steadies herself with her two middle 
pairs ; and uses her hind pair, with her comb- 



would keep protruding his poisoned lance in 
evident fury, striking wildly at the air; while 
the spider continued to suck him dry quietly, 
from the head backward, without the slightest 
consideration for his feelings as a living 
animal I may add (to anticipate an obvious 
criticism) that I am aware the sting-bearing 
wasp is a female ; I have only treated her 
here to a masculine pronoun because it helps 
to discriminate her better in each sentence 
from my friend Rosalind. 

In No. 6, our intrepid Rosalind is repre- 
sented in the act of attacking a blow-fly 
which has buzzed noisily into the web. The 
moment her delicate foot on the line informs 
her that a large insect has got entangled in 
her toils, she rushes angrsjy out, and begins 

like claws, to distribute the silk which she 
winds in coils about his wings and body. 
You can see now how useful are her eiyht 
legs to her. Each fulfils its own function* 
In about a minute she has twirled him round 
and round, and swaddled him firmly in a 
strong silken covering. I regret to say she 
does not then proceed to eat him at once, 
but keeps him imprisoned in torture for an 
indefinite period, tightly bound in silken 
cords, till she desires to dine off him* The 
unhappy fly is bound hand and foot — 
or, rather, wing and leg — till it is abso- 
lutely incapable of the least resistance ; 
it is then kept in its close prison with a 
cruelty more than mediaeval, and at last 
devoured alive piecemeal by its ruthless 





captor. The morals of spiders are scarcely 
better than those of Chinamen. 

Rosalind's changes of costume were also 
most theatrical and interesting. Like her 
namesake in the play, she appeared every 
now and again in a different suit of clothes, 
and rejected her old ones. The manner of 
making the new suit, however, and of shuffl- 
ing off the old, was extremely interesting. 
She moulted periodically ; but at each moult 
the whole external skeleton was sloughed off, 
like a snake's skin or a lobster's coat, entire ; 
and a new one grew under it. 

In No. 8 Mr. Enock has luckily caught 
our heroine just at the moment of such a 
moult. She is dropping out of her old skin, 
by means of her threads ; beneath it, the new 
one has grown, the animal being thus quite 
literally accommodated with a fresh suit 
" while you wait." The way the old skin 
hangs up is curious and 
typical. At first the new 
outer coat is soft and 
yielding, like the freshly 
moulted skeleton or 
armour of a crab or lob- 
ster ; but it soon hardens, 
and not infrequently ad- 
vantage is taken of the 
moult to replace parts 
that have been accident- 
ally lost or broken off, 
such as a leg or a feeler. 
The economical spider, 
however, never wastes 
anything: she does not 
throw away the old suit ; 
as soon as her jaws have 
grown hard enough, it is 
eaten up by the owner, 
and thus used over again in the production of 
web or body material. If thrift be a virtue, no 
beast on earth possesses it more than a spider. 

I have left to the last the delicate question 
of the domestic relations of spiders, which 
are certainly not of a sort to be commended 
for imitation. The lady spider, indeed, too 
closely resembles the late Mr. Deeming and 
the natives of Fiji in her unsatisfactory 
notions of conjugal affection. I regret to say 
it is her reprehensible habit to devour alive 
her unsuccessful suitors, and sometimes also 
the father of her own children. These are un- 
amiable traits, but I must not conceal them. 
You will observe, no doubt, that throughout 
I have said comparatively little of the 
masculine spider, and much of his lady ; 
and I have done this of set purpose ; 
for spiders are a group in which the 


NO. 8.- 

dominance of the females is marked and 
undeniable. The matriarchate prevails ; the 
females are the race, and the males exist only 
as lazy drones, mere idle fathers of future 
generations. This being so, the mother 
spider, true to her thrifty ideas, regards them 
in the light of necessary evils; and being 
always economical, she thinks it well to utilize 
them for the purposes of the race by eating 
them up the moment they have fulfilled their 
sole and single marital function. 

This peculiar habit makes the courtship 
of spiders a grim tragi-comedy, well worth 
observing. In No. 9 Mr. Enock has repre- 
sented one salient scene in the painful drama. 
And this is the interpretation thereof. Two 
male spiders have come to pay their court to 
the supercilious Rosalind. She, good lady, 
sits unconcerned but watchful in the centre 
or hub of her snare, apparently careless of 
the two eager postulants 
for her hand and heart, 
but in reality observing 
them with critical eyes, 
and ready to rush out 
and devour them if they 
fail to please her. The 
gentlemen, accordingly, 
have to be very artful. 
They go through strange 
antics. Now they approach 
her cautiously, very much 
on the alert, ready to pull 
the string and advertise 
her of their presence, but 
also prepared to turn and 
run, or to cut the line 
and drop, if she does not 
regard their advances with 
favour. Now again they 
retreat, alarmed at her aspect. Rosalind 
sulks in her web, and waits to see which of 
the two she prefers, if either. Should the fit 
so seize her, she will accept one or other of 
her ardent suitors ; but should she happen 
to be more hungry than amorous, or else to 
be disappointed, or in an ill-humour, she 
may dart out upon them at once, and make 
meat offhand of her devoted admirer. 

Even the successful suitor himself is by no 
means safe ; for it is Rosalind's way, when 
she tires of a lover, not to nag and quarrel, 
but to devour him outright, and look out for 
another. This saves time and trouble, and 
is better in the end for the temper of the 

When autumn comes, Rosalind lays her 
eggs in a cocoon, and fastens them on the 
under side of a stone or piece of wood, where 





they hatch out in spring, and so the whole 
story of her life begins over again. She herself, 
meanwhile, retires to winter quarters, where 
she passes the cold months under shelter in 
a state of more or less torpidity. It is not 
known exactly how long a spider lives ; but 
they continue for at least two or three 
years, and probably much longer. We had 
Rosalind under examination for two succes- 
sive summers. 

The family to which Rosalind belongs, 
that of the geometrical spiders, may be 
placed at the very head of the whole spider 
order, Its webs are the most perfect in archi- 
tecture, are the best planned as snares, and 
have a strict monopoly of the sticky beads, 
which help to entangle the prey, and which 
are also, under the micro- 
scope, most beautiful ob- 
jects, decked in prismatic 
colours, and looking like 
so many iridescent opals. 
In shape and markings 
these spiders are also 
superior to the common 
run of eight-legged beasts, 
though they are certainly 
less beautiful than some 
of the lovely green and 
variegated semi - trans- 
parent field - spiders. It 
would not be going too 
far to say that the geo- 
metrical web-makers are 
the most advanced and 
civilized members of the 
entire group. For there 
are degrees of evolution 
among these hunting car- 
nivores. Some of the least 
advanced kinds merely 
stalk or hunt down their 
prey on the open. These 
lower savages among the 
spider tribe lurk under 
stones or in the crevices 
of bark, and rush out at their victims, 
spring upon them unawares. One may 
compare them to such low hunting human 
races as the natives 
the North American 

no. q, — ROSAL 


of New Guinea or 
Indians. Others, 
again, construct tubes, with or without trap 
doors, and catch their prey more or less 
cunningly near the entrance- Yet others, 
once more, weave irregular webs, among 
leaves and twigs, or in the corners of rooms, 
and trust rather to mere meshes than to sticky 
substances. But the geometrical we b-w cavers, 


the most advanced of their kind, have learned 
by the experience of ages how to construct a 
regular snare, on a fixed ground-plan, and 
to supplement it by a singular trick of 
beady bird-lime. It is thus quite clear that 
there is progress among spiders as among 
human races, and that some species have 
progressed much further than others. 

Even among the geometrical web-weavers 
themselves, again, there are marked varieties 
of progress and culture. For some kinds have 
only three claws to each foot, while others 
have more ; and there are certain species 
which possess in addition a sort of opposable 
thumb, so that they can catch things as with 
a hand, feeling them all round, and grasping 
their threads as a sailor grasps a cable. Such 
opposable thumbs are 
always accompanied by 
high intelligence, as one 
sees in man, in the mon- 
keys, in the opossum, and 
in the parrot. 

Indeed, all round, it 
may be safely said that 
the spiders as a group 
stand at the head of the 
animals with jointed 
bodies ; and that the geo- 
metrical tribe in particu- 
lar stand at the head of 
all the spiders. Nor must 
we consider that their 
cruelty and ferocity put 
them out of court in this 
connection ; for man him- 
self, taking him in the 
mass, is one of the most 
ruthless of animals j and 
the bees, which by uni- 
versal consent rank among 
the highest insects, are 
the group which most 
universally slaughter their 
own brothers, the drones, 
as soon as the community 
has no further use for them. The fact is that 
Nature as a whole is intensely utilitarian ; 
each kind fights for its own hand alone l and 
regards as little the feelings of other kinds as 
the fisherman regards the feelings of herrings, 
or as the fishmonger minds the objection 
of lobsters to be boiled alive for our human 
convenience. A race that skins living eels 
at Billingsgate, and decks its hats with egrets 
in Hyde Park, has no just ground of com- 
plaint, after all, against my poor, misguided, 
husband-eating Rosalind. 

Original from 




Portraits of Celebrities at Different Times of their Lives, 






Born 1880. 


f : A 


SIN 1895 the Crown 


Prince, who is 
the eldest son of 
the lady known 
to Europeans as 
the Second Queen, a full 
sister of the First Queen, 
was raised to his present 
dignity on the death of 
the late Crown Prince, the 
First Queen's eldest son. 
The Prince is a youth 
of great ability and 

fKtCNENT li A V, 

From 4 Photo, by Pritani, Gi 

AGS t* 

Front <i f 'frnta, by IT. <C J). Downry, 

promise. His father has 
every reason to con- 
gratulate himself on 
having his son educated 
in England, for his educa- 
tion and residence among 
English boys have not 
only greatly improved 
his physical appearance, 
but the general influence 
of his surroundings will 
do much to shape his 
life into a career of 
extreme usefulness to his 





warden of St. Deiniol's Hostel and Library* 
founded by Mr. Gladstone for the promotion 
of sacred study. Nearly 200 students have 

AGE 15. 
From a PhfAo. J>y IT. Mradiut, Totrjita^ 

Born 1856. 
3 HE REV, H, DREW is the 
second son of F. Drew, Esq,, of 
Powderham. He was educated 
at Newton Abbot College, and 
Keble College, Oxford, where he 
graduated B.A. and M,A. After taking his 
degree, he engaged in educational 
work for a few years, and was 
ordained deacon in 1883, and priest 
the following year. He was ap- 
pointed to the curacy of Hawarden, 
Flintshire, where he began his minis- 
terial life under the Rev. Stephen 
Gladstone, In February, 1886, he 

/'Yuim a Photo, bvl 

ace 31. 


lodged in the Hostel, and Mr. Drew has 
catalogued the 30,000 volumes contained in 
the two principal rooms of the library. 

Ada 37 + 
Ftvm a rhoto. &y WhaUmvgA INtatfi', €»***; r 

married Mary, third daughter of 
the Right Hon* \\\ E. Ciladstone. 
Being unwilling to sever his wife 
from the venerable parents who had 
learnt to lean upon her as their chief 
stay, Mr. Drew has always refused 
to leave Hawarden, and has declined 
several offers of valuable prefer- 
ment. In 1894 he spent six months 
in temporary charge of a church 
near Cape Town, and on his return 
to Hawarden he became the first 

from it Photo. bg\ 


i&Uwtt if J 




AGE 5, 



JRS. DREW, owing to the fact 
5 that her eldest sister was married 
and that her second sister was 
for some years head of Newn- 
hani College, Cambridge, was 
for several years before Iilt marriage Mr 
Gladstones only daughter living at home, 
and shared with Mrs, Gladstone all the 
social labours which of necessity devolved on 

AGE, 13. 
Hvntt a Photo, by JmnhUfi, Ft>muti4>n.mwcr, 

a Premier's wife. She did much to make 
the official house, No. 10, ] fuming Street, 
a centre of brilliant and delightful com- 
pany. Since her marriage all Mrs. 
Drew's energies have been devoted to 
the kindred tasks of mother, wife, and 

Vol. xiv.- as 

Ai.E B9, 

fVowi a Pk#to. by Elliott tt Fry. 

daughter ; watch- 
ing with affection- 
ate devotion over 
the declining years 
of her illustrious 
parents, and co- 
operating with her 
husband in all 
the religious and 
philanthropic work 
of a widespread 
country parish. 

Ai.K .'-.. 

Fmn* fl J>rairino by 

From a 


[Aiwa Hwyht* 



Jtam a riwtQ. bf] 


age 19. [ W. IL GUI. DmmporL 


Born 1845, 
HOUGH officially a civilian, Sir 
William White has the un- 
mistakable air of a naval man ; 
environ ment accounts for this. 
His parents were in no way con- 
nected with official circles, naval or otherwise, 
t( I was born," he said, "at Devonport, on 
February 2nd, 1845. When I was fourteen my 
father fell ill, and I had to do something for 
myself* The appointment that presented 
itself was an open competition for entry into 

From a Photo, fry] 

ai;k 24. j w if. OiU, /fcrxrfipori 

FrfrJtt ir I 'hut;. ly\ AOB JA J Rllvitt *fr Frv. 

His interesting career and work are dealt 
with in this month's u Illustrated Interview. 3 * 

the dockyard as a shipwright's apprentice/' 
The rest of young White's early career is 
simply one long list of competitive examina- 
tions, all passed with extraordinary success, 

f-'i-mn 9 


[lift-*** Vu- 

Illustrated Interviews. 

By William G. FitzGerald, 

O say that Sir William White 
holds the most responsible 
position in the whole Empire 
is not an extravagant state- 
ment He designs the battle- 
ships of Britain, which is to 
say that ho is virtually the paramount arbiter 
of fashion in warships for the entire world — 
literally, from China to Peru. 

Sir William White does not actually live 
in London, Residence in the sturdy North 
of England has rendered the Metropolis 
almost intolerable to him. Thus it was at his 
quiet home on Putney Hill that I saw him. 

June, 1867, saw him appointed on the 
Staff at the Admiralty by Sir Edward 
Reed, then Chief Constructor of the Navy. 
Thus j at the age of twenty-two we find the 
young man in the position of confidential 
assistant to the Chief Constructor, after a 
brilliant scholastic record. 

" Coming to the Admiralty in that 
way," remarked Sir William, " I passed 
from the scholastic part into the actual work 
of designing ships for the Navy." The loss 
of the Captain, the retirement of Sir 
Edward Reed 3 and the 
appointment of Sir 
Nathaniel Barnaby — 
these events passed 
in quick succession 
about this time- 
It was in 1S81 that 
Mr. White was ap- 
pointed Chief Con- 
structor, and the very 
next year lie was ap- 
proached by the great 
firm of Sir William 
Armstrong and Com- 
pany, who offered him 
the position of chief 
naval constructor in 
connection with the 
new warship building 
yard which they were 
about to establish- 

" I had a feeling," 
said Sir William, 
u that this was an op- 
portunity which 
would enable me to 
show what I could do 
with a free hand ; 

I therefore decided to accept this offer, and I 
told the Admiralty in January, 1SS3, that I 
was about to quit the public service and take 
up the proffered position at Els wick. 

" When I went to Elswick," resumed this 
remarkable man, u the place where within two 
years we were building the ill-fated Victoria 
was just a mud-bank by the river-side. The 
water came in 12ft. deep at the very spot 
where the Victoria was afterwards completed. 
When I left His wick to come back to the 
Admiralty, about two and a half years after- 
wards, we were employing 2,oco men there. 
Among many other ships, we had the Victoria 
well advanced on the stocks." 

Ta Iking of the Victoria, I am greatly 
indebted to Mr. Philip Watts, Sir William 
White's able successor at Elswick, for three 
exceedingly interesting photographs showing 
various stages in the building of that unfor- 
tunate warship. The first photograph shows 
the stem of the great vessel It is necessary 
to mention, in view of the name-plate Renown f 
seen in the photograph, that the name of the 
vessel was changed at a very early stage in 
view of the fact that she was launched in the 

by K: 


OfiE I>AY'ft WC1KK ON H.M.* V JCINKl/t* 

I** <. fMj. ty ft ER5fflTOPffl€ H IG A N 



Jubilee year of 1887. In the photo, will also 
be seen the blocks laid for the keel of the 

*' The first photograph," writes Mr, Watts, 
"shows one solitary day's work on the keel 
and stem mould.'* It is, by the way, very 
unusual to take a photograph so early in 
the construction of a ship. The second 
photo, which Mr. Watts was kind enough 
to place at our disposal for reproduction is 
likewise very impressive. It shows the 
Victoria partially in frame, as she was 

Spain, and Austria When he came 
away, he left enough work for two years, 
Armstrong's, as everybody knows, is a power 
in the civilized world, and as Sir William 
White had a good deal to do with the 
building up of its universal reputation, I 
put several questions to him respecting the 
establishment uf the Warship Dockyard, at 

"At the very outset/' replied Sir William, 
" there was in the middle of the river an 
island, with a farm upon it, This island was 

jFYyHi n. 1'hotOr hjf] 

when Hir William White left Els wick. This 
photograph will give you an excellent idea 
of wh;it the skeleton interior of a battleship 
looks like in the early stages of building. At 
Portsmouth, Devon port, or any other of our 
grent dockyards, many of these stupendous 
Ira me works are to be seen on the slips, and the 
interior is turned into a perfect Babel with 
clattering* and hammerings, and hundreds of 
men swarming in all directions. 

Naturally, the Admiralty did not want to 
lose the very valuable services of their 
brilliant young Constructor. Finding him 
resolute, however, they actually went out of 
their way to present him with a special letter 
of thanks for past services. In the two and 
a half years which Sir William spent at Arm- 
strong's he designed and obtained orders for 
ships representing about ^1,500,000* He 
built ships for Japan and China, Italy, 

Parry, South *.■'.■ .■-.'i 

known ns 'The Meadows/ Its removal 
formed part of the scheme for the improve- 
ment of the Tyne. In Fact, deep water was 
to be substituted for that island, Now, 
exactly what to do with all the material was 
something of a problem. So we suggested 
that if, instead of taking the sand, etc., from 
'The Meadows' out to sea, the authorities 
would only bring it to us at our wharf, we 
would take it and be glad of it So we used 
this material for filling up the new line of the 
river front where our ship-building was to be 
carried on. This, of course, saved us a great 
deal of trouble and expense*" 

At this time, be it understood, no war- 
ships were built at the famous Elswick yard. 
Only armaments— guns, gun-mountings, etc, 
were made there. 

M How Io)igwere.y.pu/ J I asked, " from the 
time you started removing the island until 




you were actually able to commence ship- 
building ? " 

" About eighteen months/* was the reply ; 
"and the first ship we built there was the 
Panther, a torpedo cruiser for the Austrian 
navy. We were building that ship at one 
end of the yard whilst the other end was still 
under water," 

The next photograph to be reproduced 
here is a magnificently impressive view of the 
stem of H.MS* Victoria. The photo, was 
taken just prior to the launch ; and in the 
words of the French idiom, it "gives furiously 
to think,' 1 Launching-day is observed in a 
dockyard as more or less of a holiday ; it 
was so on this occasion. Little, however, 
did the architects and engineers dream, when 
they surveyed their stupendous handiwork, 
that only a few years later the great battle- 
ship would go to the bottom with nearly all 
her officers and men, 
including the Com- 
mander- in-Chief, Sir 
George Tryon. The 
story of the ramming 
of the Victoria by the 
Camperd&wn is too 
fresh in the minds of 
the public to bear nar- 
ration here. 1 may 
merely mention in 
passing that, after a 
great disaster of this 
kind, Sir William 
White is literally over- 
whelmed with notions 
as to prevention and 
salvage, f r o ni inventors 
of all grades. 

"There seem to be 
quite a number of 
people," remarked Sir 
William, "who have 
plans for raising sunken 
ships, such as the Sul- 
tan or the Victoria. A 
great many of these 
inventors know nothing 
whatever about the 
subject ; others under- 
stand the principle, 
perhaps, but do not 
realize the practical 
difficulties, I remem- 
ber there was one man 
who came to me with 
an idea for raising 
sunken ships by blow- 
ing the water out gf 

them with compressed air. He always 
carried with him a tin box with holes bored 
in it ; also a flexible tube* He would place 
the box at the bottom of a tank and then 
blow through the tube. The pressure, of 
course, was sufficient to blow the water out of 
the box, and it would rush up to the surface. 
On this he would say, e There you are; 
you've only got to do that with your ship. 5 
Asked as to how he would keep the ship at 
the surface when it got there, he would reply 
'that was our btisim-ss/ 

" There was," he remarked, 1( a man who 
used to spend many hours a day in White- 
hall, in front of the Admiralty. He carried 
sandwich - boards on .which were printed 
his grievances, and he used to distribute 
pamphlets which gave extra details. The 
Admiralty, he declared, had stolen his 
notions, particularly the idea of ram bows, 

loPAoto, b V w.p< 

"to, h f W. Parry, South ShizbU, 


3 02 


which had been in use for at least fifteen 
years before the date of his so-called inven- 

"Then, again, all sorts of proposals are 
made to us in connection with aerial naviga- 
tion. People seem to think that the 
Admiralty deals with anything that floats, 
whether in the air, on the water, or under 
the water. They send us ideas for fly- 
ing machines and other wonderful things 
intended to convey explosive charges over 
the enemy, whether on land or at sea." 

Once his devotion to his duty nearly cost 
him his life- It was the usual story of an 
enthusiastic inventor with any amount of 
faith in the offspring of his brain. In this 
particular instance that offspring took the 
jbrm of a submarine boat. A lot of people 
went down in that boat, and when they had 
been down some little time it began to dawn 
upon them that they were 
never coming up again. 
File fact was that the boat, 
instead of going down 
nicely and gently, took a 
terrific header into the clay 
at the bottom of the dock ; 
and after a frightfully 
anxious time> during which 
Sir William White and 
everybody else concerned 
had to man the pumps and 
work them furiously, the 
submarine "warship" came 
to the surface, 

I asked Sir William 
whether other nations adopted our ideas in 
the construction of warships* 

"It is a mutual thing, so to speak," he 
said; u we know what is happening all the 
world over, and our idea is to get the best, 
wherever it may come from. In the matter 
of water-tube boilers, for example, the French 
have undoubtedly shown the way. On the 
other hand, the water-tube boilers built by 
Messrs. Yarrow and Messrs. Tborneycroft 
are much used abroad, the former extensively 
in Russia, and the latter in Germany, The 
French, again, took the lead in the matter of 
armour, which, of course, is one of the very 
first considerations in a battleship. It was 
an Englishman, however, who first suggested 
the use of nickel-steel for armour. An 
American named Harvey invented the process 
of hardening the surface of steel plates ; 
and the German firm of Krupp has made the 
latest advances." 

We are here enabled to reproduce part of 
an armour-plate made by Messrs, Charles 

Cammell and Co,, Limited, of Sheffield. This 
is part of a sample plate that underwent a 
very severe test. Notice the marks of pro- 
jectiles fired from a 6in. breechloading 
gun, M The test in question," writes Messrs. 
Cammell, u shows the quality of armour 
being supplied to the British Govern- 
ment for the new ships Allnon, Canopus A 
Glory\ Goliath \ and Ocean. For these vessels 
we are making the whole of the armour for 
the ends of citadels. This armour - plate, 
which was tested on board H*M.S. Nettle, at 
Portsmouth, was 8ft long, 6fL wide, and 6111. 
thick. The trial took place on September 
22nd, 1896. The projectile fired from the 
6in, breechloader was one of Holtzer forged 
steel. It weighed ioolU, and the charge 
consisted of 481b. of powder." 

If one could only realize the severity 
of this trial, one would have some idea 


of the extraordinary pitch of perfection to 
which the making of armour-plates has 
been brought. The gun, which could 
probably throw its huge shot ten miles, was 
only 30ft, away from the plate. The first 
shot (the one on the right-hand side) hit the 
plate 2fL from the bottom. The result was 
an injury measuring rain, by nin. The 
head of the projectile was embedded in the 
plate, and the remainder broken up, mostly 
in small pieces, The blow was equal to 
2,663 w f° ot tons," and a careful record was 
made after the firing of each round. 

It is a peculiar business, this making of 
armour-plates. "The special plant and tools 
necessary to deal with this heavy work," write 
Messrs, John Brown and Co,, of Sheffield, 
" represent a prodigious capital expenditure, 
which is only productive when armour-plate 
orders are plentiful. The frequent alterations 
and improvements to which armour-plate 
processes are subject put a very short limit 
on the probably useful life of such costly 




plant. As this is not adapted to 
ordinary manufacturing require- 
ments, much of it has otten to be 
completely dismantled and re- 
moved to make room for newer 

In this country an extraordinarily 
high standard of excellence is 
looked for by ihe Government in 
the work of private manufacturers 
who produce the materiel for Her 
Majesty's ships. Let us take the 
case of projectiles, by way of 
example, Messrs* John Brown and 
Co, tell me that out of every lot of 
armour-piercing projectiles received 
from the manufacturers, a certain 
percentage are fired against armour- 
plates under conditions calculated 
to carry them easily through if their 
quality be good. As a rule they 
perform their task with little, if any, 
damage to themselves ; but in order 
to get a better idea of the enormous 
forces called into play at these tests, 
a huge projectile that has suffered 
in transit is selected for illustration. Before 
firing, this projectile was i3*^in, in diameter, 
and weighed 1,2561b, Propelled with 630IL of 
gunpowder, it struck the target with a velocity 
of 2,004ft per second, and with an energy 
equal to that of a ton weight falling from a 
height of over 6)4 miles. The shot was, 
however, arrested by the plate, swing to its 
(the shot, that is) being a little soft, and 
expanding in diameter, or " setting up, 3? as 
the illustration shows. A similar armour- 
piercing shot fired on the same day under 
similar conditions readily perforated the 
target, which consisted of an t3in, compound 
armour-plate, a 6in, wrought-iron plate, and 
12ft. of solid oak* The photograph shows 
the great projectile and its interior, together 
with the shattered fragments. 

These very interesting tests are sometimes 
marked by remarkable incidents. Here is 
one of the most curious ; it occurred at the 
trial of a 12m. shot in 1887. The projectile, 
weighing 7241b., was driven uninjured 
through a i6in. compound plate and 12ft. of 
oak balks, and came to rest with its point 
just through an old wrought- iron plate at the 
back of all. Behind this plate two rabbits 
were found to have taken refuge. One of 
these, dazed by the shock, was taken out 
alive and uninjured, but the other had 
literally been shot dead by the enormous 
projectile, which had gone just far enough to 
kill it without mutilation* 


It seems that the largest projectiles used 
in the English Service are 16^ in. in 
diameter, and weigh i,82olb. Fired with 
960! b, of powder, they strike the plate with a 
velocity of nearly 2,ico foot-seconds, and an 
energy equal to the blow of a ton weight 
falling from a height of more than ten miles, 
The target for testing such projectiles con- 
sists of a compound armour-plate 20m. thick, 
an Sin, plate of wrought "fton, 20ft. of solid 
oak, 12ft. of granite, and 13ft. of brickwork. 
The shot must get through two plates (2 8 in, 
of metal altogether), or the lot it represents is 
rejected, A rough estimate of the cost of a 
single trial of this kind is ^£2,000, 

It is an absolute fact that there is not 
a single branch of warship construction 
with which Sir William White has not a 
thorough practical acquaintance. At any 
given moment, he will be found a perfect 
encyclopedia of everything that is up-to-date 
in naval construction. He goes to sea when- 
ever he can, and he is always in touch with 
naval opinion. 

"Then," he said to me, u I must have an 
intimate acquaintance with foreign navies, 
I am personally known to the naval authori- 
ties of nearly all the nations of the world. 
I was in Russia and (Germany only last 
summer, and both Governments gave me the 
utmost facilities in prosecuting my researches, 

in Italy for my 
Italian clock- 

I-ast year also, when I was in 



yards, I am acquainted with the Ministers 
of Marine in Italy, France, Austria, and 
Russia ; also with the Secretary of the Navy 
in America. I have been on board all their 
ships. Nor can you design ships without 
knowing all about materials. One has to be 
up-to-date in things innumerable — the latest 
invention in boilers, in armour-plates, in 
torpedoes, in guns. All these I must be 
perpetually inquiring into and weighing in 
the balance." 

Here is reproduced a photograph of one 
of the workshops in the ordnance depart- 
ment at Elswiek. 

as the winding of ioS miles of wire around 
a 49-ton gun* The testing of the guns is 
very severe. Messrs. Armstrong have two 
testing grounds, one at Ridsdale, Northum- 
berland, for the strength of the barrel and 
the muzzle velocity, and the other for range, 
at Silloth, on the Sol way. 

I am here enabled to reproduce two 
extremely interesting photographs, which 
show the testing of powders — ordinary 
powder as against cordite, which is smoke- 
less. The first photo, shows the firing of a 
6in. gun with a charge of ordinary powder ; 
and it was taken about three seconds after 


Lord Armstrong's renowned factory, with 
which part of Sir William White's career is so 
closely associated, lines the River Tyne for 
about one and a half miles, and covers roughly 
some seventy -five acres of ground. The firm 
employs 19,000 men, and yet, so perfect is 
the organization, that this great army is paid 
within twenty-five minutes every Saturday, 
There are forty gun-shops in the ordnance 
department, and in them great cannon of 
various calibre and in every stage of manufac- 
ture arc seen lying about at various angles, In 
one of these workshops the visitor may stand 
and watch many interesting processes, such 

the projectile had left the muzzle. Observe 
the cloud of thick smoke, which is quite 
in accordance with the conventional battle- 
pictures. Now this may be magnificent, 
but it is undesirable in war. The second 
photograph shows the firing of the same 
gun with a charge of cordite ; the two 
photos, were taken at precisely the same 
interval after the projectile had left the gun, 
the velocity being the same in each case. 
Observe that in the firing of the cordite 
charge there is no smoke coming from the 
muzzle of tUpjgVWal f Unfortunately, however, 

some iM&W5? ffli(M loud of sand 



i a Photo. hit\ 


L J. & GmW. 

has been raised by the concussion* By the 
uninitiated this might tie taken for smoke, 
though it could scarcely be mistaken for it 
by an expert. The difference between 
cordite, the present Service powder, and 
ordinary black gunpowder was probably 
never before so beautifully demonstrated to 
the n on -technical reader as in these two 

In the course of my several interviews with 

Sir William White, I chanced to ask him 
how many warships he actually built whilst 
at Armstrong's, He replied: 4t For Austria, 
two ; Japan, two ; China, two ; Spain, two ; 
and Italy, one. Whilst I was there also, the 
United States, who were just about to create 
their navy, sent to buy designs of mine to 
be built from in America. When I went to 
Armstrong's/ pursued Sir William, "I had 
no idea of going bnck into the Government 

Vol. JciVr— 39 









service. What happened was this. Early 
in 1885 Sir Nathaniel Barnaby fell ill, 
mainly through over-work. To put it plainly, 
he was advised by his doctors that, if he 
wished to live, he had better retire. Then 
arose the question as to who was to be his 
successor; and — this is important — it was just 
about this time that the great agitation arose 
about the increase of the Navy. Lord 
Geprge Hamilton, then First Lord of the 
Admiralty, wrote to me and asked me if I 
would take Barnaby's place. Now, I was 
under legal obligations- to Armstrong's to 
remain, and, moreover, there was an immense 
amount of work in hand. The result of 
much correspondence was that Sir William 
Armstrong (as hp then was) agreed to my 
leaving, provided that his firm might consult 
me whenever they wished, until the work 
then in hand should be completed. Thus, 
even after I left, I continued to be re- 
sponsible for the ships I had designed." 

Here it may be mentioned that Sir William 
White's return to the service of his country 
has cost him quite a large fortune in the 
way of income ; besides which, his freedom 
of action has, of course, been curtailed. He 
felt, -however, that he could really do some- 
thing worth while for the Navy, and be of some 
service to the nation at a very critical time. 
Doubtless also the splendour of the position 
weighed with him. On his return to the 
Admiralty he was given the additional title of 
" Assistant Controller of the Navy." Now, in 
previous years, the naval construction of this 
country had gone on at a pretty even jog- 
trot. Sir William's return to the Admiralty 
from Armstrong's was at the time of the 
"great awakening." Everybody knows that 
within the last few years the whole Empire 
has awoke to the necessity of having an 
invincible Navy capable of upholding our 
power and prestige before the world. You 
will readily understand, therefore, that Sir 
William White recommenced his Work at 
the Admiralty only to face a truly 
tecrific. irj<?irease, A U sorts of building " pro- 
grammes,* fcprnmencing with Lord North- 
brooke's, began to rise before him. From 
1869 to 1885 the average expenditure on 
new construction was ,£1,500,000 a year; 
the year he came back it was £3,337,000. 
Nor was the awakening yet complete. 
People said this was abnormal, and could 
not continue. But listen to Sir William 
White :— 

44 1 have now," he said, " been at the 
Admiralty eleven and a half years, as 
Director of Naval Construction ; and during 

Digitized by v^rt 

that time the average expenditure on new 
construction has been ^4,300,000, or about 
three times what anybody could have fore- 
seen. This last year, ending 31st March," 
he added, turning to his notes, " the expendi- 
ture is 7^ millions, or, say, five times the 
previous average. The total expenditure on 
new construction in the eleven and a half 
years is close on 50 millions sterling." In 
other words, Sir William White has designed 
ships for the Navy to the value of this 
stupendous sum. I asked him for some 
details respecting the ships built and building 
from his designs for the Royal Navy. " If 
we except 'destroyers' and the like," he 
replied, "the ships number 174, carrying 
1,510 guns; the total tonnage is 861,000. 
Taking the ships designed by me for foreign 
navies, they are 12 in number; 76 gtans ; 
32,000 tons; and 75,000 horse-power." 

Strangely enough, Sir William White's first 
independent design was a warship for a foreign 
Government : That was in 1879. Of course, 
he had " official "sanction ; but, nevertheless, 
the matter gave rise to much adverse criticism 
in the House of Commons and elsewhere. 
The Argentine Government wanted a war- 
ship built, and they called for designs. They 
wanted to have a competition, but could 
state no conditions ; all they knew was that 
they wanted a better ship than any possessed 
by the Chilians. In their dilemma they 
came to Sir Nathaniel Barnaby, the then 
Director of Naval Construction, and he 
passed the matter on to Sir William White. 
With official sanction, that warship was 
designed by Sir William, and built by Samuda, 
on the Thames. She was called the Almi- 
rante Broiun, and was an armoured cruiser 
of 4,500 tons, of an entirely new type. 

To the layman, the science of warship 
building seems a mere endless chain of 
engines of destruction, recalling Dr. John- 
son's doggerel about the fleas. For instance, 
there are big battleships. Well, someone 
comes along and invents torpedo-boats to 
blow them up. The next type to be devised 
is torpedo - boat destroyers, whose name 
sufficiently indicates their mission. Powerful 
armoured cruisers of very high speed are 
intended infer alia to look after the destroyers, 
and so the pitting of brain against brain goes 
on like a tremendous game of cards, one 
nation " countering" the other in its turn. 

The mention of torpedo-boats opens up a 
very interesting subject. The very first 
attempt to use torpedo-boats systematically 
was made during the American War ; and as 
two vessels at least -the United States steamer 




Housaionic and the Confederate ram 
Albemarle— wre actually sunk, and several 
others severely damaged by means of these 
wen pons— to say nothing of the apprehension 
excited among all the vessels engaged— the 
attempt may be said to have been decidedly 
successful. The speed of the torpedo-boats 
designed at the present day is exceedingly 
high, and is only surpassed, in fact, by 
that of their arch-enemy* the ** destroyer*" 
There is no prettier sight than a flotilla 
of torpedo boats at full speed. The 
photograph here reproduced shows in 
the foreground Torpedo-boat No. 83 in 
a sea-way. The officers and crew of these 

From a Photo, by Symond* ft Co., l*orttmouth. 

deadly little vessels are by no means so 
comfortable as their colleagues on a cruiser 
or a battleship ; and in time of war the 
commander of a torpedo-boat would be 
constantly engaged m missions of most 
terrible danger. The great search-lights from 
his prospective prey would be glancing in 
every direction, possibly to be followed by a 
hail of projectiles before which nothing could 

The manufacture of torpedoes, which will 
probably play a very important part in the 
next great naval war, is a very fast! mating 
business. Messrs. Greenwood and Batley, 
Limited, of I^eeds, make a large number of 
these terrible weapons; but by far the most 
extensive manufacture is carried on at the 
famous u Whitehead 7i Works, near Wey- 
mouth. Whitehead was an Englishman, 
settled in Austria j and it is a remarkable 
fact that the first German inventor was a 
man named SchwarzkopfF, which means 
"Black-head." The exact details of the 
construction of the Whitehead torpedo are 
kept carefully concealed, but generally it 

by L^OOgle 

consists of a cigar-shaped vessel, varying 
from 14ft to 19ft, in length, and from j 4m. 
to 1 6 in. in diameter* It is made of specially 
prepared steel, and is divided into three 
parts. The head contains the gun-cotton 
and explosive apparatus ; the central j part 
contains the machinery ; and the third or 
tail part contains the supply of compassed 
air for the engines. The working pressure 
in the tail is usually i,ooolb. per square inch, 
and the quantity carried is sufficient to 
propel the largest torpedo a distance of 
220yds. at 24 knots, or j,oooyds. at 16 kfiots. 
By an arrangement connected witJjfi the 
horizontal rudders, the torpedo can he ftiade 

to run below the 
surface of the water 
at any required 
depth, and to keep 
at that depth to 
the end of its run, 
Such is the skill 
already acquired in 
the use of the tor- 
pedo, that it is 
now almost im- 
possible to miss an 
ironclad at a dis- 
tance of 1,000yds,, 
even when the ship 
attacked is moy- 
i n g at twelv e 
or more knots an 
The next photograph to be reproduced 
shows a torpedo actually being discharged 
from the broadside tube of a cruiser at 
the Elswick Works, Of course, in tests of 
this kind none of the torpedoes are allowed 
to be lost j for each costs some hundreds 
of pounds. A boat is always in waiting to 
recover the missile, which, even when "travel- 
ling below the surface of the water, can be 
traced by the line of bubbles it creates at the 

Naval experts have various theories as to 
what is the most suitable protection for a 
battleship against torpedoes. Many of our 
large ironclads are fitted with enormous wire 
nets, which, when a torpedo attack is feared, 
are let down all round the ship. These 
nets are called "crinolines," and we are 
enabled to reproduce a very interesting 
photograph showing a torpedo being dis- 
charged from a torpedo-boa t at a warship pro- 
tected by her '* crinoline." The illustration 
shows the torpedo caught in the meshes of 
the netting; and the photo. w T as taken from 
the porthole of the ship attacked. In this 


3 o8 



matter the war of intellects is again made 
manifest, for after these "crinolines " were 
invented the torpedoes were fitted with screw- 
cutting noses, which enabled them to cut 
their way through the wire meshes. 

Naval experiments are pretty costly affairs. 
Now* and then our own Navy will deliver up 
some old ship-bulk to be the corpus vile for 
the latest thing in guns or torpedoes. The 
very interesting photograph which is next 
reproduced shows the result of a very remark- 
able experiment conducted at Cherbourg, in 
March, 1S77. Here is the story. It was 
decided that the old 2, 000-ton wooden frigate 
Bay&mmise should be subjected to an attack 
by torjx;do-boats. This much abused vessel 
had already been damaged in one of the 
earlier experiments, and was on this 
occasion kept afloat by means of empty casks. 
In order to realize as nearly as possible the 
actual conditions 
of warfare, the 
Bayonnaist was 
towed by the 
C&ti&ny at the rate 
of about six knots 
an hour. The 
attacking torpedo- 
boat, under the 
command of M. 
Lemoine, came up 
at a speed of about 
fourteen knots, 
which on nearing 
the Bayonntiise 
was reduced, so as 
to prevent a col- 
lision between the 
two vessels at the 
moment of attack, 
The torpedo, 

charged with 15 kilogrammes of damp gun- 
cotton, andsubmcrged to a depth of 2 ! 4 metres 
below the surface of the water, exploded 
immediately on striking, with the result that 
the Bayamtaise would at once have gone to 
the bottom, had it not -been for the empty 
casks with which she was filled. The hole 
in her bow t shown in the photograph, was 
large enough to admit a full -si zed omnibus. 
The question of speed in warships is, 
of course, of very great importance. In 
this matter, it seem^ there is no finality. 
" We have," remarked Sir William, *' gone up 
to thirty-three knots in our latest contract for 
torpedo-boat destroyers, which means prac- 
tically thirty-eight statute miles an hour, or 
the speed of an average passenger train. 
One little beat, called the Turbinia^ which is 
now being experimented with, has actually 
done over thirty-five knots.' 1 

by K: 



Ftvrn. a Photo. b» Wat Otoflrlfttf HD m 




Sir William White had some interesting 
remarks to make on this subject. "Put a 
thirty knot destroyer into a rough sea," he 
said, "and the limit of the speed she can 
make Is what she can bear — what the people 
on her can bear. The same thing is true of 
bigger vessels. The question as to what 
speed can be reached is not to be measured 
by what is theoretically possible, but what is 
commercially remunerative, and, in the case of 
warships, by what is practically useful. The 

get her before they begin to work* The 
fairest way to judge is from the day that 
building preparations are actually put in 
hand, and not from the laying of the keel. 
A first-class battleship^' pursued Sir William, 
11 is completed in this country in from two 
and a half to three years, or about half the 
time our foreign rivals take. The Mars, 
built by contract, by l^iird Brothers, of 
Birkenhead, was ordered in June, 1894, and 
was ready to come away about February, 

i8 97 .» 

The Mars, by the way, is 
one of the largest battleships 
constructed for the British 
Navy. She is of the Majestic 
class, of 14,900 tons displace- 
ment, and 12,000 horse- 
power. Her armament con- 
sists of four 1 2 in. 46-ton 
breechloading guns, each fir- 
ing a projectile weighing 
8501b, There are, besides, 
fifty quick-firing guns, in 


highest speed of battleships like the Renotvn 
is from seventeen and a half to nineteen 
knots ; the Italians, however, have some very 
large ships, like the Sardtgna, which I think 
they claim to have exceeded nineteen knots. 
The fastest first-class cruisers afloat, such as 
the Powerful^ have actually exceeded twenty- 
two knots/* 

Asked as to what dockyard held the record 
for fast building, Sir William replied that 
this was M a very delicate question. You 
must remember/' he said, M that a private 
firm cannot even so much as order any of the 
materials until they receive the definite order. 
In the case of the Government dockyards, 
however, we send the drawings of the ship 
long beforehand ; so that the materials can 
be ordered immediately and preparations for 
building can go on in the interval. Certain 
portions of the structure can thus be ready- 
in advance, and our own yards have perhaps 
hundreds of tons of material brought to- 

addition to the usual auxiliary 
armament, The ship is 
lighted by about 900 electric 
lights, and equipped with six 
search-lights, each of 30,000 

"The details of the cost 
of a first-class battleship/' 
remarked Sir William White, 
11 may perhaps prove interest- 
ing. Let us take the Prince 
George. Here are the official 
figures, roundly. She was built 
at Portsmouth. The labour upon her hull 
cost ^216,000 ; materials in the hull, includ- 
ing armour, ^445,000; propelling machinery, 
^gojooo ; gun-mountings and torpedo gear, 
^70,000 ; and armament, ^"70,000. Then 
you have stores, ammunition, and reserves; 
so that by the time the ship is fully equipped, 
you may say that the captain has charge of a 
million of money. A first-class cruiser costs 
^£4 5 0,000 ; a second-class about ^250,000 ; 
and a third-class about ,£130,000. A 
'destroyer* of the latest type represents 
something like^eo^ooo. All these figures are 
exclusive of armament. The two well-known 
cruisers, Powerful and Terrible, are quite ex- 
ceptional. Each cost about ^£700,000, plus 
another ,£40,000 for the guns." 

These statistics led me to ask Sir William 
what he estimated the entire British Navy to 
be worth. 

"In 1813," he replied, "the Navy, exclu- 
sive of armament, might have been valued at 




about ten millions sterling. Its value to-day, 
according to Parliamentary returns, is sixty- 
one millions, excluding small ships, steam 
tugs, and the like/ 7 More than two-thirds 
of the money value of the whole British Navy 
is represented in ships designed by Sir 
William White. 

The names of the warships, I learn, are 
decided upon by the First Lord. " People 
think," remarked Sir William, " that this is a 
matter with no method in it ; but in point of 
fact, the names chosen are nearly always those 
which have historical associations. The first 
Mars was won from the French over 150 
years ago, in one of the smartest single-ship 
actions ever fought. The present Mars is 
the fifth of her line. Then, again, we have 
a whole class of ships named after famous 
admirals — for example, the Howe, Colling- 
wood, and so on." 

It is an amusing fact, by the way, that the 
Peace Society, and other kindred bodies, 
seem to think Sir William W r hite a very 
warlike person, and they frequently send 
him circulars and tracts. 

The next photograph to be reproduced is 
of unique interest ; it shows a torpedo blow- 
ing up what had been a fair-sized boat. The 

the Chino-Japanese War, he could sit in his 
arm-chair reading the despatches from the 
scene of action with peculiar interest, in that 
his own vessels were fighting on either side! 

" Before Sir William left Elswick," writes 
Mr. Philip Watts, " he had prepared the 
outline design of the Chinese cruiser Chih- 
Yuen, which was sunk at the battle of the 
Yalu River." 

I regret being unable to reproduce here in 
full a perfectly unique " unsolicited testi- 
monial" which Sir William White received 
from Viscount Ito, Commander-in-Chief of the 
Japanese fleet at Yalu. This very interesting 
letter is dated from H.I.J. M.S. Matsushima, 
at Wei-hai-Wei, 23rd December, 1894. 
Count Ito thinks it " quite natural" that " I 
should think of addressing a few lines to the 
illustrious Constructor to whose talents are 
due the late success of our Naniwa and 

When a new type of battleship has to be 
designed — as in the case of the Royal 
Sovereign class — the members of the Board 
of Admiralty call into counsel (notwithstand- 
ing the fallacy to the contrary extant) a large 
number of the most experienced naval 
officers ; and the opinion of each of these is 

From a k*hoto. by] 


[ W e$i <b -Sow, Svuthsea. 

specks seen in the air, a little to the left of 
the column of water, are fragments of the 
shattered boat. This interesting experiment 
took place in Porchester Creek, Portsmouth 
Harbour. The torpedo was inclosed in what 
is called a jacket, thus giving it greater force. 

" Experiments of this kind," remarked Sir 
William, "are constantly being conducted in 
Portsmouth Harbour, Stokes Bay, and else- 

Sir William, by the way, has enjoyed some 
extraordinary experiences in his time. During 

Digitized by dQOg I C 

solicited and discussed. In fact, thanks 
mainly to the extraordinary ability of our 
Director of Naval Construction, the war- 
ships of the British Navy are built with such 
care and precision, even in the smallest 
details, that accidents of any kind are extra- 
ordinarily rare. There is testing here, and test- 
ing there, and calculations everywhere. We 
don't jump at innovations; we wait to see their 
value tested in a practical manner— at some- 
one else's expense. More or less serious 
accidents in foreign navies are comparatively 



3 11 

common. One hears strange rumours about 
French warships ; and the newspapers often 
tell us of disastrous accidents on board the 
vessels belonging to the various European 

Here is reproduced a very interesting 
photograph, which shows the havoc wrought 
by the explosion of a gun on board the 
Russian ironclad Cissoi VeHky. It will be 
remembered that not many months ago this 
ship was anchored off Crete, when the breech 
mechanism of one of the guns blew out, and 
the entire top of the armoured turret, after 
being blown a considerable distance in the 


air, fell upon the deck, killing instantly a 
large number of officers and men. The 
photograph reproduced shows the breeches 
of the guns immediately after the explosion. 

Elsewhere I have hinted that Sir William 
White keeps well abreast of the times, and is 
posted up in every invention that concerns his 
profession, from submarine boats to non- 
inflammable woods. I asked him what was 
the routine of his work as Naval Constructor, 

"The Naval Members of the Board of 
Admiralty," was the reply, "decide that they 
want a ship of a certain type, These high 
officials meet whenever there is necessity, 
and give me certain conditions as to speed, 
coal, armament, etc. Then it is my 
business to produce a design embodying 
these properties ; and, of course, before the 
Board of Admiralty decide finally, they want 
to know the cost. I next come to the Board 
and give them, perhaps, two or three alterna- 
tive sketch designs ; they then say which 
they prefer, and I tell them what will be the 

\\ze6 by L^OOgle 

probable displacement, et c * You see," pur- 
sued Sir William, "we have substantial facts 
to deal with in foreign navies. Our policy is 
just this : we can build more rapidly and 
more cheaply than anybody, and we simply 
wait until we kmnv what we have t& meet, and 
then we go to work at once-" 

As to how and where Sir William White 
actually does his designing and planning, 
these are points concerning which he can 
give no fixed rule. He designs our battle- 
ships lying on his couch in his private 
sitting-room, in hotels, on board ship-in 
fact, anywhere and at any time, In the 

perfected design, 
he tells me, ever)' 
ounce of weight 
must have been 
calculated and 
allowed for, to- 
gether with its 
effect upon the 
position of the 
centre of gravity. 
Propulsion, struc- 
tural strength, and 
a thousand other 
things have like- 
wise to be con- 

u The ordinary 
architect/* re- 
in a r k e d Sir 
William, ^ builds 
a structure which 
rests upon a sub- 
stantial foundation, whereas the naval 
architect's handiwork is required not merely 
to float in the water, but also to be pro- 
pelled, to carry many enormous guns, etc, 
and to meet the wildest weather" And 
surely Sir William White is the most able 
naval architect that the world has yet 
produced. The Majestic weighs nearly 
15,000 tons ; yet when she was completed she 
was just exactly the weight that Sir W r illiam 
had calculated, and her centre of gravity was 
within two inches of where it was expected 
to be ! 

Submarine mines form a very interesting 
chapter of naval strategy, which I have not 
yet dealt with. Better than pages of de- 
scription, however, are the two extremely 
successful photographs here reproduced. 
The first shows the first upheaval of twelve 
submarine mines, which were exploded by 
electricity at Portsmouth, Woe unto any 
foreign warship which attempts to enter this 
great naval ArscnaU-a^.-an unbidden guest ! 





The second photograph, taken some minute 
fraction of a second after the first one, is 
probably unique. Never, perhaps, has a 
yjhotograph been taken under such difficulties 
or with greater danger, It shows clearly the 
whole line of the tremendous upheaval The 
black columns are principally composed of 
mud and stones from the bottom of the sea, 
the rest consisting, of course, of hundreds of 
tons of water. 

Of all these, and many other things fas- 
cinating to the ordinary person, did Sir 
William White speak. I have, however, 
space for only one more interesting incident 
narrated by our Director of Naval Construc- 
tion. A few years ago Sir William took up 
an American paper, and in it he found a 

lengthy account of the launching of a 
new warship. The writer gave a detailed 
description of that ship, and evidently could 
not resist the temptation of crowing over all 
the world at the close of his article ; Great 
Britain was mainly apostrophized. 4i Now, 
why/ 1 the writer remonstrated, "can't you 
advance like America in warship designing 
and building? Just think of this young 
nation being far ahead of you ! It is a dis- 
grace to Great Britain. We are ahead in 
guns, in armour — in everything ; and only ten 
years ago we had nothing. This, our latest 
ship, shows that we are ahead of the world. }i 
" This sort of thing," remarked Sir William, 
quietly, u rather amused me, because / 
designed thai ship! 11 

Tire TWKLVK MlOlAkJNE minks in fvi L BLAST. 
From a i'hoio by ^trnwud* d' 0d.„ PurtMmontk. 

by Google 

Original from 

Distorting Mirrors 

Bv L. S. Lewis. 

[From Photos, specially taken by George Newtu$ % Limited.} 

Quite naturally, then, Mr. Dale was one 

VER since the days of Pepper's 
Ghost, all kinds of "illusions" 
have been devised with the 
aid of mirrors, which, like the 
multiplication table, are capa- 
ble of infinite combinations. 

Some of our great " modern magicians," like 

Mr. Maskelynoj design their own effects and 

illusions; others do not, preferring to "buy 

of the maker." As a fact, there is in London 

a gentleman who makes it his business to 

devise all sorts of weird, uncanny effects with 


His name is Mr E. J. Dale, and he has at 

his private residence a model stage, fitted 

with electric lamps. On this stage he patiently 

tries various effects, playing variations upon 

the lighting arrangements and the angles at 

which the mirrors are placed, until, at length, 

he gets some effect capable of being worked 

up into something novel and startling. Mr. 

Dale next makes a cardboard model of the 

entire scene, and then commences to work 

the thing out on a larger 


Now, obviously it would 

be a pretty costly business 

to be always breaking up 

glass mirrors into pieces of 

various shapes and sizes, so 

the illusion artist buys instead 

sheets of highly polished zinc 

at 5s. each. This material 

he can cut about and bend 

backwards and forwards at 

will. Finally, when all 

arrangements have been 

decided upon, wooden 

moulds of the required 

mirrors are made and sent 

to the glass- bender's— usually 

to Mr. Newton, of Charles 

Street, Hat ton Garden, In 

this -way have originated 

many well-known successful 

illusions — the " headless," 

" bodiless," " disappearing," 

and other ladies ; the wishing- 

well, into which one looks 

and sees one's future husband 

or wife ; the angels visit, and 

numerous other subjects — 

gruesome, curious, amusing, 

and beautiful. 

VqL mi v. —40 

day struck with the idea of producing dis- 
torting mirrors, which, without the aid of 
draperies or stage mechanism of any kind, 
should prove an endless source of amuse- 
ment to the vast crowds that flock to the 
great exhibitions of London, Accordingly, 
he set to work, and after calculating the 
curves to a nicety, he produced the "tem- 
plates," or moulds, of two full-length mirrors. 
After many failures, the work being of 
unexampled difficulty, and quite without 
precedent, Mr, Newton, the well-known glass- 
bender, succeeded in producing five pairs, 
which were forthwith sent to Olympia by 
order of that prince of showmen, Mr. Joseph 

The first photo, shows the two mirrors. 
The one on the left is wholly concave, sweep- 
ing down in a lugubrious curve ; and the 
other is convex at the top and concave at 
the bottom, thus giving a double image, A 
multitude of queer variations can be obtained 




Wftirttf r frtWr" s,ro " ri '-> 




by standing and 
stooping, advancing 
and receding. The 
figure of a little girl 
seen in the left- 
hand mirror is 
merely a reflection. 
The whole photo, 
is a capital snap- 
shot by our own 
artist The lady 
seen in front of the 
mirror has hastened 
up to it, unsuspect- 
ing, being desirous 
of arranging her 
hair or something 
of that sort. Her 
horror on beholding 
the quaint, zig-zag 
monstrosity in the 
glass is well de- 
picted* The horror 
and amazement of other people who acci- 
dentally happen upon these mirrors are like- 
wise comical to witness* 

The mirrors are ^in* thick, and measure 
about yft. by 3ft They cost about ^24 a pair 
to produce, and nevtr 
was money better spent 
from the showman's 
point of view. Simply 
fixed to the wall and 
provided with a frame- 
work of rustic cork, they 
attracted curious crowds 
the whole day long. The 
idea was a master-stroke. 
We are all interested in 
ourselves— if you under- 
stand* me — and w T e in- 
spect with keen curiosity 
portraits or caricatures 
which depict us in 
various attitudes. 

The crowds in front 
of these mirrors occa- 
sionally grew so un- 
manageable, that a 
stalwart policeman was 
stationed in front of 
each pair to move the 
people on after they had 
inspected themselves 
and posed in various 
ways, to their own satis 
faction. Here is repro- 
duced an average family , 
group whose antics 

before the mirrors 
were " snapped " by 
our own photo- 
grapher. Of course, 
these distorting 
mirrors affected 
people in different 
ways j but of this 
more hereafter. 

The next photo, 
shows the family in 
the "long" mirror. 
The hat of pater- 
fa m i 1 i a s has 
ascended clean out 
of this peculiar 
picture, but his 
smiling face suffi- 
ciently indicates the 
lengthening pro- 
cess. Notice the 
curious perspective 
of his finger. 
No one who has never seen a mixed crowd 
in front of these mirrors can even form an 
idea of the diversion they provide. Probably 
the funniest experience the Prince and 
Princess of Wales ever had was when they 
stood in front of one 
of the many pairs at 
Ofympia. Letters are 
frequently received by 
the designer (Mr. Dale) 
asking for quotations as 
to terms for the erection 
of distorting mirrors in 
private mansions and 
country houses. Noble- 
men and gentlemen who 
are sometimes at a loss 
to know what to do with 
their guests— say, on a 
wet day— might do worse 
than provide themselves 
with a 6fL " long " and 
11 short." Mr. Dale tells 
me that he has already 
fitted up several pairs in 
ancestral mansions, the 
total cost of each pair, 
inclusive of fitting and 
erecting, being about 

It was in the "long " 
concave mirror that 
our photographer ob- 
tained the quaint 
Rossetti-like effect seen 

alftoft* 3 next illustralion - 





The child on the right has crossed her hands 
on her breast Which reminds us that people 
of all ages and conditions try various effects 
for themselves. The reader need scarcely 
be told that the photographing of these 
reflected images was a difficult and delicate 
matter. Standing before the mirrors one 
could not only see one's person caricatured 
horribly, but by simply moving hither and 
thither, one could produce all kinds of 
fantastic and outlandish effects. 

It was, however, very different with the 
camera. All sorts of nightmares flitted before 
the lens, and it was all but impossible to be 
certain whether or no the camera saw exactly 
the same picture as was seen by the subject 
himself. This is accounted for by the fact 
that the slightest movement on the part of 
the " sitter JT completely altered the extravagant 
image in the mirror, Mr. Dale assured us 
that it had never previously occurred to any 
photographer to \bkk\ these novel pictures. 
When approached on the subject, many 
declared it altogether impossible. 

Here is reproduced a photo, of a lady of 
average height — of course, taken in the u short" 


distorting mirror. Obviously the sharper the 
convexity, the more stunted and podgy th^ 
figure becomes, If this lady had stretched 
her hand out straight from her shoulder^ it 
would have been prolonged horizontally in 
the most grotesque manner. The mirror 
indicates its tendency in this direction by 
lengthening the lady's nose. 

These mirrors reflect a good deal of human 
nature. Tall, ungainly women have looked 
wistfully in the "short" glass, and wished 
earnestly that it were possible for the image 
reflected therein to become a tangible reality* 
Similarly, scores of more or less stout ladies 
have gazed in the li long r+ mirror, and then 
turned radiantly to their friends for opinions 
and remarks. The average girl— particularly 
the girl attended by her lover — avoided both 
mirrors as she would avoid the plague. In 
fact, no amount of persuasion could induce 
certain persons — dignified men, bashful 
youths, and others— to stand in front of these 
distorting glasses for any length of time* 

Two small boys are next seen reflected in 
the concave mirror. Notice, again, the 
curious foreshortening of the hand and finger 
of the lad on the left It was extremely 
amusing to watch the frolics of boys in front 





of these glasses. They would dance, 
strike attitudes, pull faces, and try all 
sorts of queer experiments, partly for 
their own amusement, but partly also 
for the gratification of the crowd behind. 
Small boys are seldom afflicted with 
bash fulness on such occasions* 

The mirrors saw grunt times on Bank 
Holidays. The jovial soul who conies 
forth in his boisterous thousands on 
such festivals— accompanied by a lady, 
equally demonstrative— was so struck 
with the latent possibilities of the 
thing that, after the first burst of 
uproarious glee, he sec himself down 
to try sundry grotesque effects, with 
the simple gravity of a monkey- Also, 
he would pose the lady, with the result 
that his mirth would become so abso- 
lutely overwhelming that he would be 
obliged to fall back for support upon 
some elderly gentleman, whose disgust 
thereat is not to be described. 

The next illustration shows a lady 
quietly trying certain effects for her- 
> IL This pair of mirrors is not 
quite the same as the pair previously 
shown. The one on the left is, as 

before, convex at the top, and concave at the 
bottom ; but the glass on the right, as one 
may judge from the photo., is a long, gently- 
curving convex glass. Both give virtually 
the same distortion, That is to say, both are 
shortening mirrors. There is this difference, 
however : the one on the left gives two 
images, whilst the long convex glass gives 
only one. Besides, in the upper part of the 
left-hand mirror the person is made con- 
siderably shorter than in the glass on the 
right-hand side. 

As might be supposed, shouts of laughter 
came continuously from the crowds in front 
of these curious " attractions," It was noticed 
that well-dressed people, apparently of the 
upper classes! did not care to look in the 
mirrors when other people were about. They 
manifested keen curiosity all the same, how- 
ever, and when the coast was clear, as the 
saying is, they stole quietly in front, and 
regarded, with interest and amusement, their 
distorted images. They would also wave their 
arms, and make sly grimaces and strange con- 
tortions, precisely as some of the lower apes 
.were seen to do under similar circumstances. 




He was an ingenious 
man who put forward 
these mirrors as a kind of 
automatic and gratuitous 
" side-show " ; but quite as 
much credit is due to the 
well - known resiau ra feur % 
Mr. Pearce, who saw in 
the mirrors (besides his 
own genial countenance) 
a unique and striking 
advertisement of his own 

The fact is, Mr. Pearce 
ordered a large number of 
pairs of mirrors — convex 
and concave. These he 
had fixed up on either 
side of the doors of his 
restaurants, with the 
legend *' Before dining at 
FearceV over the concave 

he Fowl; din in* 


glass, and M After Dining ,J over the 
convex one. 

The real humour of this novel advertise- 
ment will be better appreciated on glancing 
at the next photo,, which was taken in the 
concave, or " Before Dining " mirror. The 
idea is delightful. Any passer-by who looks 
In this glass beholds his face like this — 
attenuated, agonized, half-starved Surely no 
appearance could be more doleful. Well, 
you go in and dine, and on coming out, 
you gaze in the other mirror, the convex 
one. What you see is demonstrated in 
the accompanying photograph, which is a 
portrait of the selfsame " Before Dining " 
gentleman. Now here we see a head and 
face like an animated pudding, a complacent, 
expansive smile (invariably caused by the 
image), and indications at the shoulders that 

the diner has suddenly 
attained the proportions 
of a second Daniel 
Lambert, The curious 
part of the thing is that 
the mirrors are there, and 
you do the advertising 
yourself. So very much 
better than engaging a 
mournful man to dis- 
tribute handbills — better 
even than the odious 
practice of puffing into 
the street a villainous, 
onion-laden steam, by way 
of reminding a man that 
he is hungry. 

Here is another curious 
effect produced in the 
concave mirror. Notice 
the exaggerated length 
of the gentleman's hair- 
parting Obviously these advertising 
mirrors cause many people to stop and 
look in them, even if they do not pay 
much attention to the persuasive legends 
above. These same legends, by the way, 
are now enamelled on iron and securely 
fastened on to their respective mirrors, 
thus obviating a possible disaster caused 
by small boys changing the hoards— an 
unfortunate occurrence which happened 
more than once in the early days of 
the idea. 

There is, indeed, no reason whatever 
why this most ingenious form of 
advertising should be monopolized by 
eating house keepers, As a fact, the 
writer remembers seeing a pair fixed up 

A Q 



1 « h LONLAVB M -N. 




outside a travelling show, the 
legends being, of course, 

* Before " and " After " seeing 
the performance. Furthermore, 
the idea might also be extended 
to comic illustrated journalism 

— " Before" and " After" read- 
ing the various papers. 

The accompanying reproduc- 
tion depicts the author's hands, 
which were photographed by our 
artist, as a subject which should 
show the curious elongation, 
without any other effect being 
present to confuse the spectator. 
The author's body is seen 
encased in a tightly buttoned 
frock-coat, lengthened to such 
an extraordinary pitch, that 
one is at a loss to know 
what the long "streak" can possibly be. 
The lad depicted in our last illustration is also 
grotesquely caricatured by the mirror. The 
original photograph from which the reproduc- 
tion was made was taken in the same way as 
the preceding one. This is an exceedingly 
comic effect, the lad's profile being distorted 
in a perfectly diabolical manner. Notice the 
huge bulge of the cheek, the pointed chin, 
and above all the phenomenal nose, which 
stretches from one side of the mirror to 
the other. This will give some notion of 
the astonishingly 
grotesque effects that 
may be produced 
with a pair of these 
distorting mirrors. 



Mr. Newton makes them, by the 
way ; so do Messrs, Sage, of the 
Gray's Inn Road. The average 
size is about 24in. by i8in., and 
those with .plain black beaded 
frames cost two guineas each. 
Very large sums> however, can be 
spent on mirrors for show pur- 
poses. The Crystal Maze at the 
Royal Aquarium is composed 
entirely of mirrors, and it cost 
over ^IjOqq to fit up. 

Recent explorers have taken 
pairs of distorting mirrors with 
them to assist in obtaining "con- 
cessions" from the simple 
savage. And that the mirrors 
impress savages was made 
evident from the fact that when 
one of the Dahomey warriors 
at Olympia accidentally came across the 
very pair that figures in the first part 
of this article, he rushed off for his com- 
rades in a state of the wildest excitement. 
The exhibition was not open at the time. 
Rehearsals were going on. Before those 
mirrors, however, an absolutely unauthorized 
" rehearsal " took place. The warriors 
brought their weapons and w r ent through 
strange and fearful war -dances in front 
of the glasses, until at length the uproar 
became so great that the officials had to 

come and lead the 
Dahomey gentlemen 
away from their own 
very much counterfeit 


by Google 

Original from 

The Chrysanthemum. 

Translated from the French of Fernand Beissier, by E, Dyke. 

In every 


HE little Prince lay dying. 
On the previous evening, the 
physicians had said they could 
do no more, and the Emperor 
had thrown them all into 
prison, vowing by his golden 
crown that they should lose their heads the 
next day. 

Then he had sought others, 
direction messengers had been 
dispatched, bringing with them 
on their return to the palace 
venerable men, with white 
beards, who solemnly nodded 
their heads — surmounted by 
caps of yellow silk— and mur- 
mured sacred words. Every 
one of these sages, however, 
proved an utter failure. Never 
before, declared one and all, 
had they encountered such a 
baffling and mysterious illness 
as this, for which, in all the 
Buddhist scriptures, no pre- 
scription was to be found. 

The Emperor was furious. 
He commanded that, with 
necks in the cangue, they 
should be conducted through 
the town, preceded by heralds 
on horseback, who should 
publicly proclaim that these 
men were sentenced to an 
ignominious death, because, 
whilst pretending to be saints 
and sages, they had been 
unable to save the life of a 
son of the Heavens. 

And now, standing by the 
couch of the suffering child, 
clad in his golden armour, 
with his crown upon his 
head and his scimitar at his 
side, the Emperor held his 
son's hand in his own and 
waited, but wept not. For it 
seemed to him a thing in- 
credible that Death should 
dare to touch his child 
whilst he — the master — stood by. 

Soldiers armed with sabres kept guard 
around the bed, standing erect and motion- 
less in their black uniform decorated with the 


twelve symbolic animals. Beyond stretched 
the grand marble staircase, brilliantly illu- 
minated by the chandeliers which brazen 
storks held in their beaks. Helmeted horse- 
soldiers, lance in hand, mounted guard 
around the palace. On the terraces, archers 
in war attire shot arrows at the clouds, and 
the bonzes had orders to beat continually 
upon their drums and tom-toms. Surely, if 
Death should chance to pass near the palace, 


all this noise, this blaze of light, these sabres, 
arrows, and lances would suffice to frighten 
him away ! 

In the Wttfl I iBfii tented suspended. The 




junks, with furled sails, lay idle on the river- 
bank, and the shops wen- closed. Amidst 
the glare of torches and blare of gongs, wail- 
ing men and women, with outstretched arms 
and faces pressed against the earth, prostrated 
themselves before a colossal stone Buddha 
seated upon a lotus leaf, whose clasped 
hands rested upon his crossed legs. 

And in the Imperial chamber, under gold- 
embroidered silks, still lay and agonized the 
little Prince. His wasted chest heaved pain- 
fully; a strange, gasping sound issued from 
between his chattering teeth, and at times 
his poor little clenched hands seemed trying 
to throw off some invisible weight which 
oppressed and suffocated him. 

In the adjoining apartment the Empress, 
surrounded by her women, who were lying 
upon the floor, was herself kneeling, and, in 
spite of the silken hangings and doors of 
brass, her sobs reached the ears 
of the sick boy. He turned 
gently towards his father, and, 
fixing on him his large, deep 
eyes, in which seemed now to 
burn a mysterious light, he in- 
quired why his mother was not 
at his side, and why all those 
soldiers, with their big sabres, 
could do nothing to ease his pain. 

At a sign from the Emperor, 
the horsemen brandished their 
lances, the archers made a rain- 
cloud of arrows around the 
palace, and the noise of the 
tom-toms was redoubled. Then, 
looking at his son, the Emperor 
said to him : — 

" Sleep, little Prince, for your 
trusty soldiers are watching over 

But the child's eyes remained 
wide open, and his breathing 
grew less and less distinct, 


Suddenly a commo- 
tion arose at the foot 
of the staircase, and 
the Emperor turned 
his eyes wrathfully in 
that direction. Who 
had dared to cross the 
threshold of his palace 
at such a time? His 
hand, disengaging 
itself from that of his 
son, sought the hilt 
of his scimitar, Then 

a soldier appeared in the doorway, and pros- 
trated himself before his master, 

"Speak!" commanded the Emperor. 
" Who dares to intrude upon me ?" 

(l An old man/' replied the soldier, 

" What does he want?" 

u To speak with you/' 

16 To speak with me ! By my divine 
ancestors ! I know not what restrains me 
from relieving you and your comrades of 
jour heads 1 Return to your post ; I will 
deal with you later," 

The cowed soldier bowed and vanished* 
The others, immovable as brazen images, 
and still grasping their naked sabres, awaited 
calmly whatever might befall 

But now, from the top of the staircase 
came forward an old man. His long beard, 
white as snow, descended to his waist He 


^_ ^j#fr3^— ~~~" 


OF THE STAlKCAsC«f+^WT^hfl S <® l in>> J OLD HAW. 1 




was attired in a silken robe, which time and 
use had robbed of its original colour. With 
one hand he leaned upon a long bamboo 
stick, in the other he held a withered 
chrysanthemum flower. 

The Emperor uttered an exclamation of 
rage, but before he could make any further 
sign, the stranger, stretching forth his hand, 
said :— 

"They allowed me to pass when I told 
them that I had come to save thy son." 

" To save my son ! Thou ? " 

" // " 

And the old man, regardless of the menac- 
ing soldiers, advanced towards the bed. 

" By the rising sun ! " vowed the Emperor, 
"if thou liest, I will have those who admitted 
thee shot to death with arrows ; and for thy- 
self, I will charge my executioners to invent 
the most cruel tortures ! " 

The old man smiled. 

"When one has reached my age," remarked 
he, " the thread which unites soul and body 
is extremely fine and worn, and the iron of 
thy executioners would scarcely torture a 
corpse ? " 

And as the guards, at a signal from the 
Emperor, made way, he approached the bed. 

"I come in time," he said, gazing upon 
the child, who now lay perfectly still and 
apparently unconscious : " but if thy soldiers 
had not permitted me to pass, thy son would 
have been dead at this moment." 

The Emperor trembled. This old man's 
words impressed him strangely. 

" And thy remedy ? " he inquired. 

"This chrysanthemum flower, which I 
have but to lay upon thy son's heart, and his 
cleansed blood shall flow with new life 
through his veins." 

" Do so, then ! " 

But the old man answered, with a smile: 
"It is necessary that I should first know 
what you are willing to give me in exchange." 


The Emperor's anger broke forth afresh. 

"Wretch!" exclaimed he, "stopping to 
discuss the price of a service, when thou 
averrest danger to be so imminent ! Knowest 
thou not that I am the master ? " 

" Of our fives, perhaps ; of our wi//s, 
never," was the sage's calm reply to this 

" He who lies there, I would have thee 
remember, is thy Emperor's child, the off- 
spring of the gods who reign in the depths 
of the clouds ! " 

"Every child of man is also a child of 

Vol. xiv. —41. 

Digitized by dOOgle 

God, and if thou wert thyself a deity, thou 
wouldst have no need of an old man's aid." 

" I have a mind to slay thee in the first 
place, and then to possess myself of thy 
mysterious faded flower ! " 

" Death, as I have told you already, has 
for me no terror. I am now so aged — I 
have lived so long — that I desire nothing 
more than eternal repose. But in order to 
render my remedy efficacious, it is needful 
that I should apply it myself." 

" Then state the number of ingots which 
though requirest, and they shall be paid 
down at once." 

" Riches are but vanity, and had I wished 
for gold, the sacred books would have 
directed me where to obtain it. In the 
retirement of my cave, wherein I have lived 
without other nourishment than a few grains 
of ginger or nemphar, and the pure water of 
a brook, I have always been wealthier than 
thou, with thy gold -swollen coffers and 
Imperial treasures." 

" Dost thou desire honours ? " 

"Wherefore should I do so? They are 
playthings which please youth ; at my age 
they amuse no longer." 

" Listen, then ! " said the Emperor. " I 
will build thee a magnificent temple. One 
hundred columns of bronze overlaid with 
gold shall support the mighty roof. A thou- 
sand lanterns of iron and stone work shall 
be illuminated perpetually, by day and night 
In the centre I will erect thy statue. Bonzes 
shall chant thy praises to the sound of gongs 
and drums, and I will punish with death 
everyone who refuses to bow before thee." 

Again the stranger shook his head. 

"Temples are built to enshrine statues of 
the gods, and no mere man has the right to 
compel another human being to worship 

" What wilt thou, then ? Tell me, and I 
will obey/' 

As the Emperor uttered these words, he 
bowed his head for the first time in his life. 
He continued : — 

" Dost thou covet the half of my king- 
dom ?— my palace ? — my cavaliers in silver 
armour ? " 

But the old man still shook his head. 
Suddenly the sick child gave a long sigh, his 
hands stiffened, his head drooped ; his 
mouth opened, but no sound came there- 

" He is dead ! " cried the Emperor. And 
flinging his sceptre at the old man's feet, he 
exclaimed : — 

"Take that, if it is the supreme power 
Original from 




which you ask ! To me it is good for 
nothing, seeing that I am powerless to shield 
my own son from pitiless Death ! " 

Falling upon his knees T he pressed his lips 
upon the child's ice-cold hands, while tears 
rained from his eyes, 

The soldiers, astounded at beholding their 
Emperor weep, knelt also. The noise of the 

only sounds which broke the solemn silence 

Then the old man extended his hand, and 
gently laid the chrysanthemum first upon the 
lips, afterwards upon the heart, of the little 


tom-toms ceased suddenly* A great silence 
brooded now over the vast, richly-decorated 
chamber, where the only person who remained 
standing was the aged, white-bearded mendi- 
cant, The sun shone into the room, and 
his cheerful rays glinted upon the arms of 
the soldiers and the gold embroideries. 
Without, on the camellias and bamboos of 
the Imperial garden, the birth were carolling 
gaily* Their songs were for a moment the 

Digitized by G< 

patient. The remedy took immediate effect. 
The still heart went to work again, the lips 
regained their colour, the limbs relaxed, and 
the young Prince raised his head. 

Surprised at the sight of the kneeling 
figures around him, lie asked : — 

" Why do you weep, my father ? Is it not 
the hour at which I am accustomed to go 
down into the garden with my tutor ? " 

The Emperor uttered a loud cry. 



3 2 o 

"A miracle!" he exclaimed. "My child 
lives! " and, taking his son into his arms, he 
covered him with kisses. Then, turning 
towards the soldiers, he said : — 

"Go! summon the Empress; then hasten 
to the town, and proclaim to all that I order 
a general rejoicing. The Prince is saved ! 
There must be illuminations at night. My 
treasurers shall perambulate the streets, 
scattering s°'d and silver money to the 

crave one boon only — to be allowed to return 
whence I came. Kre long, I hope to enter 
upon my eternal rest. It is not /, moreover, 
who have saved thy son : thou hast saved him 
thyself; for thou hast offered unto the gods 
the two things which alone can move their 
infinite pity. Thou hast bent the knee and 
shed a tear/' 

And as he passed out through the ring of 
soldiers, who saluted him with lowered 

populace. All the bells are to be rung, and 
in the temples the bonzes' shall sing the 
praises of the merciful gods to the accom- 
paniment of the festal gongs. As for thee," 
he continued, addressing the old man, iL thou 
shalt not be forgotten. From this day 
forward thou shalt sit at my right hand, on 
my throne, and thy lightest wish shall be 
esteemed a command by all," 
Once more the old man smiled 
"I have need of nothing, 1 ' he said, "and 


weapons, he paused, with uplifted forefinger, 
upon the threshold, for one parting word or 
Counsel : — 

u Never forget that above thee there exists 
a supreme Master, in Whose eternal balance 
a single tear far outweighs all the arms of 
thy soldiers, thy crown, and all thy trea- 

The Emperor bowed humbly as he 
answered : — 

14 1 thank thee, my father ! " 


^^W^i DID remember 
" ^jj§ the dogs who ate 
m\ j^j l ^ lT railway tick- 
C^ j ' ets, having been 
much amused by 
the story in Punch many years ago ; I turned 
to tell the brown gentleman 
this, but found that he had 
gone. Still, it seemed that I 
could hear the seedling and 
boiling and singing of the 
coffee -pot he wore on his 
head, louder than ever. The 
noise increased wonder hilly. 
Thousands of coffee-pots and 
kettles were hissing and sing- 
ing about me. What was it ? 
It couldn't be the Skye terriers. 
Where were the Skye terriers ? 
And the other dogs? Where 
were the mastiffs, the bull 
dogs, the St Bernards, the 
poodles, and the silken hang- 
ings, pillows, embroideries, 
combs, brushes, and smell- 
ing-bottles provided by their 
loving mistresses? They were 
gone ; and all this hissing, 
and singing, and twittering 
came not from the brown 


-'«** ¥ "IMA LA* 

3 y Google 


gentleman's coffee-pot hat, for that had 
gone, but from a myriad of wire cages. 
It was a cage-bird show ! All that had 
gone before had plainly been delusion, due to 
the uncanny glamour of the brown Egyptian 
and his coffee-pot hat, I had imagined 
cocks and hens and dogs and 
geese, where actually there 
had been but goldfinches 
canaries, nightingales, parrots, 
and love - birds. Come, I 
felt that it was time to 
steady my notions of things, 
and fix firmly in my mind 
that this was a show of cage- 

11 You're not quite right 
even there," piped a thin but 
self-confident voice from a 
cage immediately before me. 
" Canaries are the important 
persons here. Look at the 
catalogue — 'Canaries and 
British and Foreign Cage- 
bird s. ' Canaries ' very large, 
and all the rest of it as 
small as the printer can 
manage, That's right and 
proper, /'wa canary/' 

And. I perceived that I 







addressed by a 
spruce little yellow bird 
of upright carriage. He 
opened the door of 
his cage and closed it 
behind him in a casual 
sort of way, stowing 
his latch-key among 
his tail-feathers as he 
hopped on to the roof, 
11 Come along/' he 
said, . "I see you're a 
stranger, and a bit 
bashful You needn't 
be shy. Til show you 
round Company's a 
bit mixed here, but 
really very decent 
as a whole— 
those black- 
sparrows that 
from outside. 
There's Norwich, 1 an- 
eashire, Scotch fancy, 
London fancy, Belgian, 
Yorkshire, lizards, and 
cinnamons, I'm York- 
shire. Then, I believe, 
there are varieties among the riff-raff— bull- 
finches and jackdaws and parrots and such— 
but, of course, they don't matter." He cocked 
bis head superciliously and put his umbrella 
under his wing. " Come along, tJ he proceeded, 
" Til introduce you to one or two of the right 
sorL That fellow over there, who looks as 
though he would pitch forward on his nose, 

get in 




i- r,. 



is a Belgian ; and that other one, that looks 
like falling off the I jack of the perch, is a 
Scotch fancy*" 

I looked at the "Scotch fancy," and was 
startled It was, so to speak, a semicircular 
canary, which, if only it grew twice as long, 
would make a complete hoop> beak to tail- 
tip. It would seem that somebody with a 
large mouth had taken an immense bite out 
of his chest I ventured to ask my guide 
where the rest 
of the unfortu- 
nate bird had 
got to. 

"Oh," he 
answered, "ke*s 
all there. It's 
all breeding. 
They're breed- 
ing 'em out into 
bagpipers, and 
that cavity is 
where the bag- 
pipes will fit 
when they've 
learned to play- 
See the new 
London fancy 
here, with a 
crest ? They are 
being bred up 
to designs by 

Phil May —just 

Original from 







lmoKE lsj\a 


being bred up 

See ? A few 

will give quite 

as the Norwich crested are 
to Phil Mays, by design, 
more of the London fancy 
a Bank-holiday 
look to these 
shows, and a 
few more of the 
Norwich crest- 
ed, a little fur- 
ther bred, will 
fill the comic 
papers with 
drawings that 
will make the 
Scotch fancy 
wish he had a 
chest left to jerk 
a laugh out of." 

Here we 
passed an on- 
bird, fluffy and 
straggling. The 
Yorksh ire 
turned up his 
beak con temp 

u Shockingly 
mixed, the com- 
pany in this 
place," he re- 
marked, " CaiVt 
think what they send some of 'em for. That 
one looks like a model for ' Before Using' 
in an advertisement of somebody's *Avi- 


by Google 

culturine,' or what not. By the way, you 
don't know anybody in that line of business, 
do you? No? I thought perhaps they 

might like me for an l After Using* picture 

— on reasonable terms, I needn't under- 

take to eat their stuff, you know, of course 

—a fellah couldn't. By the way," he 

added, inconsequent!)', as we halted amid 

a crowd of crested birds, "rum thing the 

effect of music on 

the hair, isn't it? *' :;;; ■; ;■ ;■- j 

Look at all these 


chaps, singing 

away like any- 
thing* Is it the 

singing that 

makes the crest 

grow, or the crest 

that makes cm 

keep singing in 

that annoying 

way ? You ought 

to know. How is 

it with the human 

musicians ? Just 

the same way with 

them. * There's 

music in the hair, 1 

as some song or 

another says. So 

that when any- 
body breeds a 
crested canary with 
too big a top-knot 



Original from 





(most of these are too big), he can keep it 
going till he gets a Paderewski or some such 
profitable variety. There needn't be much 
waste, you see. When we fail to breed a 
good canary, we can manage an eminent 
human as a by-product ; not so good, of 
course, but better than nothing." 

He cocked his head a little farther back, 
and appeared to meditate twisting his mous- 
tache. The recollection, however, that the 
lack of both 
moustache and 
fingers might 
cause some dif- 
ficulty, decided 
him to change 
his mind and 
swagger on. 

" Well, well," 
he said, pre- 
sently, stopping 
before a cage 
containing a 
canary that 
would never 
have won a ^^ 
prize if there ^ 
had been five 
11 here we are 
again. Some 
old maid's pet, 
I suppose. Just j s 

HKe em. When- ON chilly nights.. 

ever an old maid 
keeps a particu- 
larly wheezy, 
decrepit, and 
asthmatical old 
canary (and that 
is the variety 
they seem mostly 
to fancy) she 
a/ways sends it 
to a show. And 
she's always in- 
dignant and mis- 
anthropical be- 
cause it doesn't 
take a prize. 
1 Why shouldn't 
it?' she asks. 'It's 
a very quiet and 
bird, and it has 
been taken great 
care of. It has 
always been care- 
fully wrapped 

up on chilly nights, and never subjected to 
the cruelty of a bath or a claw-cutting. 
And yet it has no prize. There ought 
to be female judges. Those scandalously 
unfair men judges would never give a woman 
a prize, of course. Just like 'em.' And 
so she takes her bird away — and sends 
it to the next show, just the same. Wei 1 , 
well ! Here, look at that bird ! He's a 
'Plainhead.' Good name for him, isn't it?" 
And the ribald 




young Yorkshire **" ~ 
chuckled at the 
afflicted plain- 
head's indignation. 

I could not help 
stopping before a 
small and not very 
canary of mild 
manners, and ap- 
parently of no par- 
ticular breed. 
" Ah," said the ' 

Yorkshire, mis- 
chievously, " re- 
cognise him ? " I 
had to reply that 
I did not. 

" Well, his name ' 

is Orlando." 

I think I have 

already mentioned 

the fact that my *' OI 

Original from 





name is Orlando ; and I did not like 
my guide's tone. 

"His name is Orlando/* the bird 
pursued, "and he's sent here out of 
the way. His wife thinks the Crystal 
Palace is a very proper phce, and 
she takes care he doesn't have any 
money to dissipate with. He has 
a shilling in case of emergency, but 
he's always afraid to have an emer- 
gency 3 Ho, ho ! " and the inso- 
lent Yorkshire actually winked in my 

Where he could have heard of 
Maria's opinions of the Crystal Palace 
and my permanent insoluble shilling, 
I could not imagine. I scarcely knew 
what to do. He was very small, and 
I daresay I might safely have boxed 
his ears, but was it a dignified pro- 
ceeding to bo* a canary's ears ? I 
decided that it wasn't. Besides, it 
would look as though I recognised 



> V " 


some personal allusion in his observations, 
which would have been more undignified 
still. I decided to maintain a stately 

Presently he spoke again, more respect- 
fully. "One thing's a comfort, anyway/' he 
said ; " we've kept most of these wasters out 
of the club. Know the Cage-Bird Club? 
No end of a swell affair. We had a big 
conference and trial some time ago in 
Chancery Lane. Subject : Grub. Very good 
subject, too. The question was, to pepper or 
not to pepper, line thing, cayenne pepper 
for the coat. Why doivt you try it? It 

Digitized by G« 

1 4> 


mightn't improve the cut r but it might keep 
the button holes a bit less woolly/' 

I passed over this insolence, also. 

" The point was argued out to the end," 
the Yorkshire continued, "by all the best 
birds at the Chancery Lane bar ; though the 
end might have been the beginning for all 
the conclusion we came to. Anyhow, we 
stick to pepper, as ever. Pepper and sponge- 
cake. Never try cayenne pepper on sponge- 
cake ? You should, especially now youYe 
moulting. It would fill all that bald patch 


Original from 







over my head, and rubbed it, per- 
haps a little smooth as they went. By 
your appearance you should be a well-bred 
canary of some education, but I must say I 
believe a common sparrow would behave 

He was very little impressed, I am afraid. 
He only said, "All right, old chap; keep 
your hair- — — , but there, never mind, As to 
sparrows, though, they're shocking bad form, 
you've no idea, I assure you. If you were a 
well-bred canary let loose among them, you'd 
soon find out, though. As children, even, 
they are frightful Ever see anything half so 
dissipated-looking as a young sparrow? Two 
immense black eyes, puffed and swollen, an 
intoxicated sprawl and stagger, and vulgar 
insolence enough for a human vestryman. 
They yo out of the nest on the ran-tan at 
night, and you discover them lying down 
area-steps in the early morning — shocking 
examples. And then people pity them ! 
They say the poor lit tit: things have fallen 
out of their nests and killed themselves. Of 
course they fall out They're so drunk, 


on the top of your head with hand 
some orange-coloured feathers, to 
sav nothing of the coat button- 

" My young friend, 1 * I said, with 
extreme dignity, i4 1 am grateful 
to you for your very interesting 
information, but you are not 
sufficiently respectful to your 
elders* I do not wish to be 
reminded of the years that have 


f Ml 

by Google 


Original from 



them trying to bully a dray-horse out of 
his nose- bag. If a crowd of sparrows really 
gave their attention to the business, I believe 

ift 'a 


they'd fall otil of anything. How can any- 
body find any pity for such a disreputable- 
looking thing as a young sparrow lying down 
an area? Those that don't succumb to early 
dissipation grow 
up disreputable 
and h o r s e y . 
They hang about 
stables, and look 
as knowing and 
as blackguardly 
as a bird can, 
They give each 
other tips (al- 
ways wrong), 
and lav the odds 
in worms and 
oats. They welsh 
each other eter- 
nally, and when 
at last, bankrupt 
of worms, oats, 
and credit, they 
break down, 
they become 
cab-runners and 
haunt cab-ranks 
with a view to 
bullying old 
ladies. For a 
s p a r r o w will 
bully anything, 
no matter the 
si/ P e. It's a com- 
mon sight to 
see a crowd of 

J ^ S 


„, U.N THE 1 



they could bully the beadle at the 
Hank of England out of his cocked 
hat A crowd a little bit larger 
would have taken on Mr. Humble 
himself. Sparrows are not even 
afraid of the Crystal Palace authori- 
ties and the bird- 
show officials — 
and they are 
people w h o 
might terrify the 
late Duke of 
Wellington. The 
sparrows don't 
mind; they 
come in the 
calmest way, 
without paying 
any entry fee, 
and steal our 
food. I don't 
think much of 
the * other cage- 
birds,' as you 
may have guess- 
ed , but the 
sparrows — well, 
there ! " 

Here I grew 
conscious of a 

Original from 



very terrifying apparition 
among the u other cage- 
birds/' A very start- 
ling head burst out first 
through one opening and 
then through another 
between the wires of 
a cage, in a feverish 
thunderstorm of excite- 
ment, indignantly re- 
viiing the birds oppo- 

"That's the bul-bul," 
observed the Yorkshire, 
"bul-bullying everybody 
about it. He thinks he 
should have a show all 
to himself— and I wish 
he had t for our sakes. 
That's the way with all 
the ' other cage - birds,' 
They're home - rulers, 
every one; and I 
shouldn't wonder if the 
name was Timothy. 

"But," he added, 
among the * others 
They're maddening, 
Look at 'em — making 
love flagrantly^ all over 
the place, in a specta- 
cular way that even a 
human 'Arry and 'Arriet 
would be ashamed of. 
Is there anything in the 
world half as spoony? 
It's a disgraceful exhibi- 
tion — disgraceful. They 

AKKY AND AUkll.l. 

bul-bul's private of common 

don't care what goes on 
about them- Anybody 
may win the prizes — 
they snuggle up to- 
gether and spoon. Even 
when they win prizes 
themselves, they don't 
care about them — they 
just rub noses together 
and spoon rather more. 
If the Gerfnan Emperor 
were to tome 'in a 
cocked hat and petti- 
coats and dance a skirt 
dance before the cage, 
they wouldn't look. 
They'd put their wings 
round each other's waists 
and spoon worse than 
ever The officials might 
at least provide them 
with umbrellas to spoon 
under, in the interests 
decorum ; but if they did t I 

what I 
are the 

miit stand 

em up 


don't believe the love-birds would hold 
wouldn't bother. The 
go where it liked, and 
they would continue 
to spoon on in the 
public gaze, with that 
far-gone, stupid, shame- 
less, moony look of 
theirs, that makes every 
decent bird in the place 
sick. Look at that 
raven, now ! He's long- 
ing to get out and [>eck 
them all ! " 

(To be amtimmi.) 

by Google 

Original from 

Foolhardy Feats. 

By GEORtiti Dollar. 

[Pkotos, from Um&rWtid Cf l T ndet*W0od* Staiouoph Pww Setters*] 


HI! ball started rolling in 1829, 
when Sam Patch erected a 
ladder on the footpath under 
Goat Island, and announced 
that he would jump into the 
Niagara River. The hotel- 
keepers patted him on the back, and left no 
stone unturned to draw the biggest crowd of 
the season, Patch rested the bottom of the 
ladder on the edge of the 
river, with the top inclining 
over it and staying it with 
ropes to the trees on the 
bank. At the top was a 
small platform, and from this 
Patch dived 97ft. He jumped 
again , and proved that the 
first feat was not. a fluke. 
Then, having established a 
" record," he left Niagara, 
went to another place, jumped 
again—and got killed. 

It is easy to brand such 
men fools. Any man, I take 
it, who puts his life in 
jeopardy, unless for heroic 
reasons, is a fool 15 Ion din 
was one, although he died in 
his bed at Ealing, and left 
behind him a reputation as 
the greatest tight-rope walker 
of his time. It was in 1859 that he first pro- 
posed to stretch a wire across Niagara River, 
and there was a unanimous howl of derision 
at the idea. At that time, people had no 
hesitation in ranking Blondin amongst the 
idiots, but they could not resist the temptation 
to see him throw his life away, and the crowd 
that gathered was the largest ever seen at the 

What Blondin did is now stale history. He 
got out on the rope with a 40II). pole, crossed 
the river, and then came back again. He 
lowered a cord to the old Maid of fhe Mist, 
and drew up a bottle, from which he took a 
drink. Then, after some feats of balancing, 
he came ashore amid the huzzas of the crowd, 
and the whole country rang with the news of 
the exploit, A couple of months later he 
carried his manager, Harry Calcourt, across 
on his back. It is said, and it has also been 




denied, that on this occasion Blondin had 
a quarrel with Calcourt The latter had 
previously been trained to balance him- 
self in order that he might be let down 
on the rope in the middle of the river, 
while Blondin took a breath, The wind was 
strong, the manager's coat-tails began to 
flutter, and the rope swayed in a sickly 
manner. Then, according to the story, 
Blondin threatened to leave 
his manager on the rope, at 
the mercy of the waters under- 
neath, unless he kept himself 
under control. Needless to 
say, the threat was successful, 
and the trip across was safely 

A few days later the fear- 
less Blondin again crossed the 
river, chained hand and foot, 
On his return, he carried a 
cooking stove, and made an 
omelet, which he lowered to 
the deck of the Maid of the 
Mist for consumption. At 
another time he crossed with 
a bush el -basket on each foot, 
and nt another carried a lady 
on his back. In 1H60 he 
performed before the Prince 
of Wales, the rope being 
stretched 2 30 ft. above the rapids, between 
two of the steepest cliffs on the river He 
turned somersaults before His Royal High- 
ness and went through his whole re[>ertory. 
He even managed to cross on a pair of 
stilts. But more wonderful than this special 
feat is the fact that for nearly seventy years he 
walked the tight- rope without accident He 
had several narrow " squeaks," to be sure, 
but his record was clean. 

After Blondin, the Deluge. The last 
thirty years has witnessed an unending pro- 
cession of fools to Niagara, some of them to 
rival Blond m's feats, others to jump, and still 
others, with various bharrt ideas, to risk 
their lives 111 the attempt for mushroom 
glory. A man named Bellini jumped three 
times into the river in 1873, and in iSSft he 
climbed to the iron railing on the Upper 
Suspension Bridge, knocked the ice from 

Original from 

PiCi A!V flMtLKt 
I At, A R A. 




»\ "A* 

-J Sr^t^L 

There has hardly been a year in 
which some tight-rope exhibition has 
not taken place at Niagara Falls. 
Some years ago a young fellow 
named Stephen Peere stretched a 
cable across and made several pas- 
sages. In 1878 he gave variety tu 
his career by jumping from one of 
the bridges, and in 1H87 he finished 
it by leaping to his death. He left 
behind a reputation and a wire cable. 
The latter has been used by other 
gymnasts to save the expense of 
putting up a new rope* A mnn 
named I)e Leon went out to the 

*, «bW/J 



under his feet l «. > secure :i footing, 
and at the signal of a pistol shot 
jumped into the air. He struck the 
water in four seconds, broke a rib, 
lost his senses, and came to the 
surface some fioft from where he 
entered. This was the same man 
who jumped from Hungerford Bridge 
in 1888 and was drowned 

ffl*% W**<Hf 



by Google 


middle (if it shortly after, and getting 
frightened, came back to the bosom 
of his family. McDonell made 
several very creditable attempts, and 
proved himself an excellent walki r, 
He went across with baskets on his 
feet, and frightened the gaping crowd 
by hanging with his legs from the 
wire j head downwards. Another freak 
named Jenkins, with an eye for effect, 
made the trip on a bicycle. The 
machine, however, was turned upside 
down, and had an ingeniously con- 
trived balancing apparatus, in lieu 
of a pole, attached by a metal 
framework to the wheels. So I he 
feat was not remarkable, after all. 
On the same wire, Samuel J, Dixon, 

Original from 





▼ >-V 

a '[ oroiito photographer, on September 6th, 
1890, crowed the gorge, and gave an excellent 
equilibrist exhibition* One of his crack 
feats is shown in our illustration, which 
represents him as lying with his back on the 
wire. This was a ^in. .cable, and measured 
923ft. in length. l>ixon has made several 
other ]\as sages, always with great iclat. 

It is marvellous how few accidents there 
are on the tight-rope at Niagara. The per- 
formers, with one 
accord and de- 
lightful sang 
froid, turn you 
away with a wave 
of the hand 
when you suggest 

" Tut, tut ! my 
boy, it's nothing," 
they say, and 
look down upon 
you with con- 
tempt. Then, 
in a fraternal 
moment, they 
add, " You can't 
help getting 
across, You 
get out to the 
middle of the 
rope, and there 
you are! If 
you turn back 
you lose your 

M ■*>=:,. 



^^1 !-■%-' 


1 m 

, y?l ■-■ 


1 P 
« * 


by <oOOglC 


money, and if you go on, you get it/ 1 
That's alL 

One of the most remarkable feats 
was the trip of the Maid of the Mist 
through the rapids in 186 r. This 
boat was built to make excursions 
at the foot of the Falls > but the 
business did not pay, and it was 
decided to sell her at I^ewiston, some 
miles down the river. Now, be it 
known that the Niagara River, below 
the Falls," runs for some distance 
between two cliffs of solid rock. 
This part is called the Whirlpool 
Rapids* and at the end of the rapids, 
where the swift and surging current 
impinges suddenly against the left 
bank, is the noted whirlpool It Was 
through this that the Maid had to 
go- She was commanded by Joel 
Robinson, and she got through ; but 
Robinson never tried the trip again. 
It is reported that he aged twenty 
years in appearance in passing 
through the mighty eddy, and he died a 
few years later, the first man to get through 
the whirlpool with a boat and his life. 

The biggest of all the Niagara idiots are 
those who throw dummy men into the water 
above the Kails, just for the fun of the thing. 
Of course, the sight of a human figure goin.L; 
to his death is enough to stir a lump of steel 
to activity and the number of soft -hearted 
people who have stood near the rapids throw- 
ing out ropes 
and hopes to a 
lump of stuffing 
can be counted 
by the dozens. 
It is bad enough 
to gaze at a live 
man risking his 
life for a handful 
of silver, but it 
is worse to 
make a jest of 

T h e latest 
tight - rope exhi- 
bitions have been 
those of Charles 
S, Calverlev, who 
is styled '"The 
World's Cham- 
pion." Calverlev 
must have for- 
gotten Blond in, 
f o r man y o f 
his feats are 

Original from 




those which made the Frenchman famous 
nearly forty years ago. The wheelbarrow 
business, shown in our illustration* is certainly 
although it still 
remains as diffi- 
cult to perform 
as it was in Blon-